


Four O'clock is the Worst Time In the Morning.

by flashwitch



Series: Shawn's heart [1]
Category: Psych
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-10
Updated: 2011-09-01
Packaged: 2017-10-22 11:13:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 24
Words: 36,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/237446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flashwitch/pseuds/flashwitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shawn can't sleep and ends up at Lassiter's place, drunk as a skunk. Lassiter notices he has a lot of bruises and he's not happy. I can't really think of a satisfactory summary. There's attempted rape later on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It's 4 o'clock in the morning.

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own season one and two on dvd, nothing else.
> 
> AN: this is kind of angsty and depressing, which suits my mood when I was first writing it. It's published on FF.net, and I'm cleaning it up and publishing it here one chapter a day until it's done. It can be read as Shassy pre-slash, but it's mostly gen. Any reviews would be much appreciated.
> 
> The attempted rape I warned about comes several chapters into the story, and is pretty non-graphic. I just felt that with this sort of issue, I should play it safe and give the warning.

It was four o'clock in the morning. Shawn was sitting in his office. He hadn't slept in two days. Insomnia is actually the norm for him. That, and mild depression. Not that anyone would believe him if he told them. He always had to be cheerful. The funny guy. He surrounded himself with people who didn't know him at all, because he could barely trust people he'd known all his life.

He was always the smartest guy in every room. He remembered everything in vivid detail. He could make connections that went over everyone else's heads. He figured out early on that it was better to blend than be special. He covered for his abilities with a lackadaisical attitude. In school he was great, but not amazing. He was careful not to get results that would shock and astound his teachers. He only put his hand up occasionally, and he cultivated a personality he knew would be popular.

His father took advantage of him. No, not like that, but he took advantage of what he could do. Training him. Making him 'play games'. Memorise laws. Escape from handcuffs. His father knew all about his IQ, his memory, his mind, but instead of telling the teachers, getting him the guidance and support he needed, he decided to make his kid a super-cop.

Shawn was always getting into trouble, and pulling crazy stunts, because he was bored. Because he wanted the other kids to like him. They didn't know he was a freaky genius, so at least they didn't stuff him in lockers and beat him up.

Now, Shawn's lying to people he trusts with his life on a daily basis. Gus was the only person he trusted with his mind, and even then, he still had to crack the jokes, act the fool, so Gus wouldn't be creeped out. It's funny. He's lying to everyone and it came around because he tried to tell the truth. Tried to finally use the skills his father pounded into him. But, when he tells the truth, no one belives him.

It's easier to believe in magic. Easier to believe in psychics. Easier to take him as a fool. No one believes that there could be a genius behind the facade.

4am4am4am4am4am

It wass four o'clock in the morning. Shawn was standing outside Lassiter's house. He hadn't slept in four days, not counting that cat nap at the office. He's had a few drinks. And not pineapple daiquiris, he's been on the hard stuff.

He was staring. He knew he was. But...why did Lassie hate him? All he wanted to do was help. And yeah, he got that he was a bit annoying, but Lassiter... he really hated him. Shawn took a swig from the bottle. It was because he was a liar. And Lassiter knew. Not _knew,_ knew. But he had an inkling. A suspicion.

Shawn was fed up of hiding. He'd been doing it all his life. Yeah, he's the funny guy, but he's also the genius. He'd buried that part of himself so deep, he almost believed it himself when he acted like an idiot.

He could tell.

He could tell Lassie. Jules believed in him. He could never tell her. Chief Vick would pretend not to hear, and go on giving him cases. He was an expert in human behaviour. He knew Vick cared about results. Not to the point that she'd disregard the safety of her team, but she would continue to use him, even if he told her the truth. Buzz would be disappointed.

Lassie though, he might arrest him. He might punch him. And scariest of all, he might understand.

Because Lassie wears a mask too.

 **4am4am4am4am4am**

It was four o'clock in the morning. Lassiter was lying in bed, looking at his ceiling. He wondered why ceilings aren't more interesting. Maybe he should paint a mural up there or something. Then he wondered when Spencer infected his thoughts. His doorbell rang.

It was four o'clock in the morning and Spencer was at his door. He had a bottle of whisky in his hand. He could barely stand up straight. Lassiter leaned his forehead on the door. He couldn't let the psychic _(fraud)_ wander around in that state.

It was four o'clock in the morning and a tipsy Shawn Spencer has just walked into his living room. Lassiter had had to coax him in. Shawn had been nervous. Withdrawn. He didn't babble or blather. He didn't mention pineapples. Lassie considered bringing a bottle of whisky to work with him if it made the other man shut up. Then he looked. He really looked at the man before him. Dark circles under his eyes. Clothes rumpled, and probably worn for several days. The smell of alcohol which permeated everything. Much more than one bottle of whisky's worth.

"What the hell happened to you?"

"I've been thinking."

"Well, stop it at once. I know they say the first times the hardest, but this is ridiculous."

"I'm not psychic."

"What?"

"I don't have visions. The 'spirits' don't talk to me."

"Are you confessing to fraud?"

"I'm not a psychic." He took another swallow from the bottle. "I tried to tell you when you arrested me that one time. But you didn't believe me. No one ever does."

"I knew it. I knew you weren't psychic. How do you do it? A source?"

"I have an eidetic memory. An IQ of 179. I can read 20,000 words per minute. No one believes me. I've been a clown so long..." he trailed off. When he looked up Lassiter was surprised to see tears in his eyes. "I don't know where I am anymore. If I'm still me. I've been hiding for so long."

"Spencer... why do you do it?"

"I thought... I thought I could help. Make him happy, but still living my life. I fell on the cover story when you didn't believe me, and I knew I could make it work. Why not?" Shawn shrugged. "A compromise. For him. You're going to arrest me now."

"Why would I do that?"

"You hate me." Shawn answered like it was obvious. "You hate me, you hated me from the moment you first saw me, and it's not fair. All I ever did was try to help." His voice faded to a whisper.

"Spencer... sleep it off."

 **4am4am4am4am4am**

It was four o'clock in the morning. He hadn't slept in days. A blanket was laid over him, and a hand brushed through his hair. Lassie's sofa was surprisingly comfortable. He slept. For the first time in days, he was sleeping. The other sat and watched. Talked him down from nightmares. Poured out the rest of the alcohol. Wondered at the man behind the mask.

It's 8 o'clock in the evening, and he's slept right through. Lassie called Gus. The Chief. O'Hara. Even Spencer's dad. He let them know that Shawn had flu and would be off. And that he'd given it to Lassiter, so he'd better stay off too. Don't want to infect anyone.

When Shawn awoke, he could smell chicken soup.

 

 


	2. Chicken Soup for the Stomach

_*flashback*_

 _"Dad?"_

 _"Yeah, Shawn? What's up?"_

 _"What if I told you I didn't want to be a cop?" H_ _e looked at the floor. "What if I told you I didn't want anything to do with the police?"_

 _"What?"_

 _"What if it's not what I want to do? What if I want to be a pilot, or a fireman, or a rodeo clown?"_

 _"Have you been drinking?"_

 _"A little. Maybe."_

 _"You're underage, kid. Go and sleep it off, or I'll arrest you."_

 _"Dad. Are you even listening to me?"_

 _"You're drunk, Shawn. Go to bed."_

 _"But Dad..."_

 _"Bed. Now. And I don't want to hear any more of this nonsense. You're lucky your mother isn't here."_

 _"She isn't here because you drove her away!"_

 _"GO TO BED. Sleep it off, kid, and I want an apology in the morning."_

 _*end flashback*_

 _**4am4am4am** _

 

He woke up in a house that's not his home, in a bed that's not his own.

"Urgh. Wha' happened?"

"Good evening, Spencer."

"Oh, ow. Can we just pretend that last night never happened?"

"Which bit? The part where you showed up at my door, drunk? When you admitted to fraud? When you told me I hated you?"

"The part where I dressed up in drag and did the hula."

"Here. You're dehydrated." Lassiter put the bowl of Chicken Soup on the coffee table, with a glass of water and two aspirin. Shawn drank the water slowly, downing the pills. He sipped at the soup. And all the while, he stared at Lassiter. Lassiter was looking after him. Being nice to him. But he knew. _He knew._

"Why aren't I in handcuffs right now?"

"Spencer, I didn't know you were so kinky!"

"What, you're channelling me now?" Shawn shook his head, exasperatedly. "Go ahead, clap me in irons and haul me away. I know you want to."

"First of all, a year or so ago, yes, I would have arrested you without a thought. But now? As much as I hate to admit it, and I will shoot you if you tell anyone, you're almost a friend. Well, an acquaintance, at least."And usually Shawn would have gotten the message and grinned and relaxed, but today he was having doubts.

"You don't want anyone to know you consider me an acquaintance? Don't put yourself out for me Lassie-face." He sighed. "Maybe we could come to some kind of arrangement. I don't have much money, but I can get some, or I could leave town, take 'Psych' with me. I just..." he looked at his feet. He realised his socks didn't match, but the way his life was going? Not a surprise."I don't want the people I helped... I want the cases to stand. They won't if you tell."

"Oh God, you're going to make me say it aren't you?" Lassiter groaned.

It's odd. Lassiter had been drunk once. And the few words he'd said to Shawn then had bolstered him, made him feel it was all worth it. _"You astound me."_ Shawn got drunk and left Lassiter wondering how badly he screwed up. _"You hate me!"_

"Look, Spenc...Shawn. I like you. You're a nice guy. You are a great detective. You save lives all the time." Shawn stared in shock. He couldn't believe these words were coming from his almost enemy. The man his father wished was his son. The guy he hated to admit he looked up to.

"You don't have to do that." Shawn said, getting up angrily and heading for the door. "You don't have to make crap up to make me... I know you hate me. Remember? You want to slam me into a wall half the time, and I get it, I do. It's because you see who I really am. I think I'd hate me if I were you too. I'm going home."

"Oh, no you don't." A hand grabbed his arm. Somehow he wasn't surprised when a cold metal ring closed around his wrist.

"And you called me kinky?"

"We're doing this. You don't get out of this conversation that easily."

"Lassie, I didn't know you felt that way!" Shawn protested as he was dragged into the spare room and cuffed to the bed.

"Don't do that! You go on about how you hate hiding, but you're still doing it!" Lassiter ran a hand through his hair. "We are going to have this conversation out, whether you like it or not. We both have the week off, so no one will wonder where we are. We need to discuss this."

"What's there to discuss?"

"Well, you were crying into a bottle of whisky last night. You go on about what a fraud you are. You think I hate you." Lassiter listed. "Something is wrong and I don't know what."

"What does that have to do with me being chained to the bed? If you want to come out, the closet's over there."

"Funny, Shawn."

"Fine. Can I have some more water?"

"I'm not stupid. If I let you out of my sight, you'd run away, give up. Because that's what you do."

"I'm thirsty, Lassie. I've been asleep all day, and I'm pretty hungover. Besides, how would I even get out of these? I don't have any tools." 

He looked so pathetic that Lassiter just sighed and gave him a warning glare before going to fill up a glass.

 **_4am4am4am_ **

For the first time in his life, Shawn was sticking with something. He was responsible. He was relied upon. And he didn't want to run away. But, instincts are hard to foil, and he was at his wits end. Just because he didn't want to leave, doesn't mean he won't try and run. He was fed up of lying. Of working his ass off, for table scraps. Of the look on his father's face. 

Lassiter considered how to make Spencer talk as he ran water into a glass. Shawn was infuriating. And it wasn't supposed to be the Head Detective's job to play shrink to some consultant. Guster was supposed to take care of Spencer, stop him doing crazy stunts like getting drunk and coming round Lassiter's place and admitting that he's not a psychic. He wished O'Hara was here to be Good Cop. Maybe then. he'd get some answers.

When Lassiter went back in, the handcuffs were empty and so was his bed. 

 **_4am4am4am_ **

 

 **_  
_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you read, please leave me a review!


	3. Handcuffs and History

** Handcuffs and history. **

****"SPENCER!" Lassiter snarled, looking at his handcuffs. He'd been in the kitchen for less than a minute! How was that even possible? Then the panic started. This was what he'd been hoping to avoid. Shawn would run, and vanish and never return.

 _Good riddance to bad rubbish. Who needs him?_ He tried to tell himself. But he knew that if he was honest, he did care about Spencer. Shawn. They were...well, friends. And if they didn't have Spencer then the crime rate in Santa Barbara would be way higher than it was now. The dinosaur for example. Lassiter could not think of a single person, other than Shawn, who could have figured that one out. But this could wait. He had to find him. Luckily, he'd had the foresight to check that Spencer hadn't been dim enough to ride his bike over, three sheets to the wind. And he'd taken Spencer's phone, so he couldn't call for Guster or a taxi. He ran through his house and had a hand on the front door handle when he froze.

This was Spencer. He wouldn't do anything as mundane as race out the front door. With that thought in mind, Lassiter span around and rushed back to the bedroom. There, he paused, trying to figure out where he could be. Think like Spencer. Immature, childish, ridiculous... Lassiter grinned a shark-toothed smile as he bent down onto his hands and knees and looked under the bed.

"Oh, hey Lassie, what's up?"

 **_4am4am4am_ **

It was nearly midnight and Spencer was asleep. He hadn't spoken to Lassiter since he'd trussed him up in his handcuffs, and then used a second pair of handcuffs to cuff him to the bed, and who the hell keeps leg shackles in their closet? Well, not talking isn't exactly right. Everyone who knows Shawn knows that it's almost impossible for him to be silent for that amount of time. It was more like Shawn throwing random insults at him. For hours.

 _Why am I doing this again?_ Lassiter asked himself. He went to his own room and got into bed; he'd changed earlier, and tried to get to sleep. But, he couldn't. His brain wouldn't turn off. _"You hate me!" "I'm not a psychic!" "I've been hiding for so long."_ Who would have guessed that happy go lucky Spencer was that depressed? He just didn't seem the type. But when he'd shown up with that bottle of whisky... Lassiter had been honestly afraid for Spencer's life. And Spencer's pattern of running away, that fit. Not to mention his babbling and mood swings. Maybe he was bi-polar or something. When he's up, he's bouncing off the walls, and when he's down, he's suicidal.

He pondered some more. Or maybe something happened. A fight with Guster? Or... Oh. The last case they'd been on. It had hit them all hard. They hadn't gotten there in time to save that little girl. And Lassiter was willing to bet that that was why Shawn was drinking. But the rest of this stuff? That wasn't just coming from nowhere. And since Guster seemed to be sleeping on the job, it looked like Carlton would have to step up to the mark. Which actually quite surprised him, expecting O'Hara and McNabb to be ahead of him on the Spencer friend scale. But it was his door the drunk fake had showed up at, and, God-dammit, now he felt responsible for the man.

The weird thing... actually there was a whole slew of weird things starting with Shawn Spencer being chained to Lassiter's spare bed, but the weird thing that Lassie was thinking about right now? That weird thing? Well, Shawn hadn't even seem that upset that the girl died. He was slightly less bouncy than normal for all of ten seconds, and he honestly looked shocked, but all too soon, he was cracking jokes and making snide comments. Lassiter thought about it, and he couldn't actually remember seeing Shawn angry, or upset, or any emotion other than happy. Sure sometimes, he seemed annoyed, but it was always in that irrepressible bouncy way. Had he been doing that just to play the role, and going out and getting hammered and crying himself to sleep? It was just so wrong.

Then Lassiter started to consider the way Shawn acted. He was always happy. No one is always happy. They get mad or sad or whatever. Not Shawn. Sure he got annoyed sometimes, but even then, he was still happy. At the same time, he constantly ran right into danger. He's confronted serial killers. He's gone to crime scenes. All with no thought to his own risk. He had asked Spencer more than once if he was trying to get himself killed. Not seriously, though. Never seriously, because this is Spencer, who doesn't have a serious bone in his body. In fact, Spencer's skeleton is made entirely of funny bones. But, what if? What if he really was trying to get himself killed? Suicide by bad guy. Like the time that Shawn had triggered that bomb. He was willing to risk being blown up to solve a case. And the only time Lassiter had even seen him close to flustered, and even then he barely showed that he was upset, was the time Gus was held hostage in that bank. And then he got himself captured as a hostage! He nearly got his ass shot off, it was just luck that the bank robber was actually a nice guy. That was worrying on so many levels.

 **_4am4am4am_ **

Shawn, meanwhile, was restless. He couldn't get comfortable, and the chains on his wrists and ankles didn't help. He couldn't get over the strangeness of the situation. He was chained to Lassiter's bed. Sure, not a bad place to be, but not somewhere he'd expected to end up. Certainly not under these circumstances. What had he been thinking? How embarrassing to wake up, hung-over, on Lassie's couch! He remembered exactly how he had whined like a little baby and spilled his secret to the one man who could possibly take him down. Gus was right. He should avoid caffeine and alcohol at all costs.

Speaking of Gus, it has been over 24 hours since they spoke to each other.

 _How come he hasn't called? God, am I that much of a teenage girl? Whinging about the fact that Gus hasn't called. Then again, Lassie-poo has probably destroyed my cell. Made me impossible to track. He did kidnap me after all. Kidnap? Abduct? Falsely imprison? Anyway, whatever Lassie face was doing, it was highly illegal._ At least, Shawn was pretty sure it was. Shawn's brain wouldn't switch off. He just kept wondering about how he had come to this. He'd been doing okay. In fact he'd been on top of the world, riding the rush that came from solving case after case. He'd gotten cocky. That's what it was. And his dramatic flair had cost that little girl her life. Maybe if he had acted sooner, if he had acted like a real cop, the one Henry always wanted, if he had Lassiter with him instead of Gus, then maybe she'd still be alive. If it wasn't for him she could still be alive. Lassiter had yelled at him when he'd gone to the station for his 'vision.' Juliet had snapped. And the Chief? She'd basically told him to get out and stay out. But he managed to get his point across, and they caught the bad guys. But they still didn't take him seriously.

 _How often am I wrong? How many more times will I have to save the day before they trust me? Not that I blame them. Why should they trust me? I am lying to them after all._ He sighed and tried to get comfortable. This train of thought wasn't even leaving the station. _Sleep. Go to sleep and maybe somehow, you'll wake up in your own bed, chain free and Lassie will be a figment of your imagination._  

Yeah. Right. And Lassiter is actually a leprechaun in disguise.

 **_4am4am4am_ **

Please, review!


	4. The morning after the night before

 

 ** The morning after the night before.  **

 

Lassiter woke up bright and early and went to unchain Shawn and take him to the bathroom. As he went into the spare bedroom he was surprised at how vulnerable the man looked. His heart went out to him, before he could stop it. He took a step forward, meaning to shake the other man awake, and then he noticed that Shawn's shirt had ridden up some time in the night. His stomach was bare, and there was a selection of multi-coloured bruising down his ribs.

"Spencer! What the hell happened to you?"

"Huh? Wha'? I don't wanna kiss the monkey!"

"Spencer! Wake up!" Lassiter shook the sleeping man's shoulder, fury rising within him. Who had hurt Spencer? The Psychic might be an annoying fraud and a cheat, but he was Lassiter's fraud and cheat.

"Lassie-face? You mean it wasn't a dream?" Spencer moaned as he regained consciousness.

"Spencer, what the hell? Your ribs look like a bad impressionist painting! What happened?" Shawn looked down at himself and shrugged, then wriggled so his shirt came back down.

"None of your beeswax, you nosy Parker. Why is it nosy Parker, anyway? Why not Nosy Nigel or Nosy Norman? Those work so much better. Now, hurry up and unchain me, I need to use the little Lassiter's room."

"I can honestly say I never envisioned you saying that." Lassiter said, shaking his head a little as though he had water in his ears.

"I can honestly say I never thought I'd be saying it." Shawn frowned as Lassiter unlocked the shackles and detached the handcuffs from the bed, but leaving his wrists chained together. "Lassie, what did you do with my phone?"

"It's in my room. Don't worry, you've had no calls." Lassiter told him.

Gus hadn't called him. The last time Gus hadn't called in this long... oh. What day was it again? He had been a little overwhelmed with the last case, but if it was the day he thought it was...

"What date is it today?"

"The 6th." Lassiter pulled him upright and walked him to the bathroom. "Don't think you're getting out of talking."

 **_4am4am4am_ **

As Shawn brushed his teeth on a thoughtfully provided spare brush, he considered his bad luck. Of all the days for Lassiter to abduct him. Gus was away for that week-long pharmaceutical convention. He never let Shawn know until the day before, and this time, he was so overwhelmed with the kid dying that he put it right out of his mind.

 _That's good news at least. Gus isn't actually avoiding me or mad at me._

 __Lassiter sat on the edge of the bed and put his head in his hands. This was worst than he thought. Spencer was hurt. Physically hurt, not just emotionally. How had he not noticed this? He should just hand in his detective badge. Shawn was depressed and he didn't see it. Shawn was injured, and he hadn't seen it. Shawn was not as shallow as the kiddie pool, and he hadn't realised. Oh, God. He'd dragged Spencer around. Held him down whilst he chained him up. What if he'd hurt him? What if he'd exacerbated his injuries? That was it. When the fake psychic came out of the bathroom, he was getting answers. For once, and for all.

"Shawn." Lassiter stood and stepped forward.

"Really Lassie, I like bondage as much as the next guy. It's funsies! But seriously, think we can lose the chains?"

"Shawn. Come and sit down."

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because if I sit down, you're going to ask me a bunch of questions I can't answer, and get all pissy. Which would really not be the nicest way to spend a day. So, tell you what, you undo the chains and I'll just go. Just leave. You can't tell me that isn't tempting to you."

"Spencer, so help me, you sit your ass down and listen."

"No."

"Sit!"

"Fine." He stomped over and sat down next to the Detective and held out his hands. "Take off these handcuffs now."

"No. We're going to talk now. And then maybe we'll see."

"Fine. What do you want to know?"

"How did you get those bruises? That's a good place to start." 

"Lassie. You don't want to know."]

 "Erm, yeah, I do. Otherwise, I wouldn't be asking, would I Spencer?"

"You might."

"No, I wouldn't. How did you get hurt?"

"Why do you care? I thought we established that you hate me!"  

"If I hated you, would I go to all this trouble to find out what's bothering you?"

"You might."

"Spencer..."

"Look, you really don't want to know." As Shawn said it, shaking his head, a horrible thought popped into Lassiter's head, and as soon as it did, he knew it was true.

"Was it... was it someone down at the station?"

"What? No."

"That was a lie if ever I heard one. Come on, Spencer, usually you've got better game than this!"

"This is a game to you? A game! I have bruises on my bruises and you're laughing at me?"

"Well, isn't that what you want? 'Oh, look at me, I'm so hilarious, and I'm psychic too, yoo hoo, look at me!' You never shut up!"

"What the hell are you... Oh, I see. I see where this is going. You want to make me mad. So I'll slip up, say something I'll regret."

"So, the bruises question isn't the right place to start? Oh well, I've narrowed it down to people at the station. How about we start with how you do what you do instead?"

"Lassie, come on!" Shawn whined.

"I think I have a right to know. Especially since I didn't turn you in on the spot."

"Lassie, come on!"

"Tell me." Lassiter folded his arms and met Shawn's eyes, blue into green. "You said the other night you had an eidetic memory."

"Okay. Fine. Yes, I have an eidetic memory. I was born with it. I can remember everything I see. It's not so great with things I hear."

"Your mother. She doesn't record her sessions."

"That's right, she has an eidetic tonal memory. Mine's like hers, but with things I see instead."

"Right. That makes sense, but that doesn't explain everything."

"Well, the rest is explained in 2 words. 'My Dad.' He was a cop, as you know. He trained me from when I was a little kid. He'd ask me to close my eyes and then tell him how many hats there were in a diner. Or he'd take some of my toys and ask me what was missing. Or we'd go camping and I'd have to evade my father for as long as possible, in the middle of the woods."

"Kicking out a tail light." Lassiter muttered, to himself.

"Evilkidnappersaywhat?'"

"What?"

"What did you say?"

"I said kicking out a tail light. Your dad, he said something about it when you were kidnapped."

"Ah, yes. One of my favourite lessons. He locked me in the trunk, a few times, until I could get out." Shawn grinned. "And I'm sure you appreciate my prowess with handcuffs."

"How old were you?"

"When he started training me? Three, I think."

"Sweet Lady Justice." Lassiter honestly wasn't sure whether he wanted to punch Henry Spencer or shake his hand. How could anyone do that to a kid? On the other hand, Spencer would be dead several times over if he hadn't been trained. Not to mention all the crimes that wouldn't have been solved. He now had a whole new perspective on the fake.


	5. O'Hara's Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jules just hijacked the story!

 

 

Juliet put the bag down on her desk. She just had to finish her paperwork and then she could go and deliver the get well presents to her friends. Shawn was easy, a pineapple with a big red bow on it. Lassiter was harder to buy for. She'd decided to go with a few cans of chicken soup, and a bunch of grapes. Carlton struck her as a traditionalist.

She went down to the records room to pull some files to update her paperwork. As she looked through the filing cabinets, she thought to herself. _It's weird that Shawn didn't call me himself. And what was he doing hanging around with Lassiter, anyway? They aren't exactly the best of friends._ Normally, Shawn wouldn't have hesitated to call her himself. He revelled in the chance to flirt at every opportunity. She hoped he was okay. And Lassiter was acting oddly as well. The man never took a day off. He'd come into work after signing himself out of the hospital AMA from a gunshot wound. He'd come into work with food poisoning. He'd even come into work after being told to take some time off after accumulating 3 years worth of vacation days.

And if both Lassiter and Shawn were acting odd... it probably meant something was up.

 **_4am4am4am_ **

She got the files she needed and headed to the door. Her hand was on the handle, but then she heard something that made her pause, ear to the door.

"He looks to have finally got the message."

"Good, fucking fag. Probably got the job through sucking the Head Dick's dick."

"The way he dances around, all touchy feely, and sitting on people's laps."

"How he ever solves cases, I don't know."

"He's in bed with the devil. What he does? It's against God. Against the laws of nature."

"He makes a mockery of every police officer here."

"He makes a mockery of the law."

"Well, he hasn't been here in days. Maybe we got through to him."

"We'd better have. Or the freak's going down."

 **_4am4am4am_ **

What was all that about? She opened the door a crack and looked through. Three uniformed cops were standing around, one with a black eye, and a split lip. She considered going and confronting them, but she didn't have enough information. She didn't get a very good look at their faces. She couldn't help wondering who they were, and how they got to be cops. That level of hatred... It was something that the good natured detective just couldn't imagine. Not here in the heart of justice. Hate and bad guys were what the police were supposed to stop.

No, she wasn't that naive. She did know about crooked cops. She knew that hate is a weed that grows everywhere. But she couldn't help the growing feeling of wrongness. It was supposed to be safe here.

She heard them move on, but she didn't head out. She stood there, running the conversation back over in her head. It sounded almost like they were talking about Shawn. Of course, she could be wrong, but that's just what it sounded like to her. And they talked about him getting the message. Add to that, Shawn hasn't been around in a few days, and the lack of a personal phone call, and Juliet was worried.

Screw paperwork.

She rushed back to her desk and grabbed the pineapple, and the bag with the chicken soup and the grapes in, before dashing out to her car. She would head over to Shawn's first. She just had a bad feeling in her gut that wouldn't go away. Juliet drove straight to Shawn's apartment, and banged on the door. There was no answer. She knocked harder, the pit in her belly growing.

"Shawn? Shawn, are you in there?" she yelled, pounding harder. Still no sign of life. Now she was really getting worried. O'Hara took a breath, just to calm herself. "Shawn, open up! I come bearing pineapple!" If anything would get him to the door; that would. She didn't understand Shawn's obsession with the tropical fruit, but she knew it was for real. There was still no answer. She pounded harder. "Shawn!" Now Jules really was worried. She pulled her cell phone from her pocket and dialled.

 _"The phone you are calling has been switched off or is out of network coverage. Please hang up and try again later."_

She hung up with slightly more force than necessary and shoved her phone back in her pocket.

 _Carlton said Shawn was sick,_ she thought.  _What if he got worse? What if he's passed out in there? What if he's lying in a pool of his own vomit, unable to answer the door?_

Juliet made up her mind. She was going to break into Shawn's apartment. For his own good, of course. Shawn had an unsettling habit of taking his own health far too lightly. Like when he crashed his bike. He acted like it was no big deal, but he was quite badly hurt. She had to be sure he was okay.

Juliet went over to the window, cupping her hands around her eyes and peering through. She couldn't see any bodies, or pools of blood or anything, so that was a good sign. She tapped on the window. "Shawn!" But there was still no response. She went back to the door and pulled a bobby pin from her elaborate hair style. She was glad she'd decided to put it up today. She took the pin and split it open, then inserted it into the lock, twisting and manipulating it until there was a telltale click. The door swung open to reveal the front room. There was a pile of mail on the mat just inside the door. He hadn't been home at all today, by the looks of it. She picked it up and took it over to the table, unable to hide a smile at the variety of postmarks on the letters. They came from all over the world. Shawn really did know someone everywhere.

"Shawn? You in here? You okay?" She did a walkthrough of the apartment, desperately resisting the urge to yell 'Clear!' in every room she'd checked. Shawn was nowhere to be found. Something wasn't right. Maybe Gus would... no, that's right, Gus was out of town. Shawn's father? No, even sick, Shawn wouldn't willingly go and stay with his dad. And wherever he was, he'd spent the night there, judging by the state of the place.

 _Lassiter! He was the last person to see Shawn! I was going over there anyway, to make sure he's okay, and to give him his get well presents._ Juliet smiled to herself and went out to her car. She drove over to Lassiter's carefully obeying the traffic laws, because if she didn't pay attention, she would have broken the speed limit the whole way. She was worried. It was a hard thing to admit, because Shawn was like an over exuberant puppy. He never seemed to be in trouble, until he was, and then it was deadly. And she didn't want to care about him, because he didn't love her. He'd made that clear. And he was perfectly capable of taking care of himself. He'd travelled all over the world. Worked more jobs than most people have haircuts.

She shouldn't be worried.

So why was that bad feeling getting worse? She pressed down, just a little more, on the gas pedal. If those guys were talking about Shawn... What if they had hurt him? What if that's why he'd stopped coming in? Did Lassiter know? That would explain why Carlton was the one that called in for both of them. But why would Shawn tell Lassiter and not her? O'Hara reached Lassiter's apartment in no time at all. She pulled up to the curb and jumped out, grabbing the bag of gifts as she shot out of the car and raced over to door.

"Carlton!" She called, banging on the door. "Carlton, open the door!" 

 **_4am4am4am_ **

What do you think Jules will think, finding Shawn chained to Lassiter's bed?

#### 


	6. Talking is easier said than done.

After their conversation that morning, Lassiter had decided to go easy on Shawn. He had moved the man to the sofa and they'd sat and watched movies. Shawn wanted a comedy, but Lassiter only owned action flicks. So, they ended up watching the Die Hard movies. All four of them in a row.

Shawn's wrists were still chained.

They'd ordered Pizza for dinner. Half pepperoni and half Hawaiian (obviously). Both of them were surprised at how well they got on, chatting about the films, carefully avoiding discussing anything serious. Shawn had gotten quite upset that morning and Lassiter had ended up punching a wall as Shawn explained his childhood. He had to admit that his first thought upon hearing Shawn's story, before he knew all the facts, was child abuse. That's when he punched the wall. And yeah, it wasn't abuse. Not really. But Lassiter thought back to fishing with Spencer Senior. How nothing he did was good enough. About how Henry had treated him when they were looking for Shawn after he was taken. If Spencer had grown up with that attitude directed at him... It was made worse by the fact that both felt incredibly uncomfortable talking like this with each other. They were barely even friends, and yet they were discussing their dysfunctional childhoods. Shawn had managed to get Lassiter into a game of quid pro quo (although did he really have to call him Clarice?) so he ended up spilling about his overbearing mother, absentee father and Old Senora.

Before they'd even gotten to the teenage years, Carlton was really angry. He'd always thought Henry was an upstanding guy, a real hero. But the way he treated his kid sometimes! And from what Shawn said, the Spencer household had never really been as happy as he liked to make out. Henry and Madeline fought constantly and they were complete opposites as far as parenting was concerned. When Maddy was around, not often as she travelled a lot, she gave her son lots of hugs, and let him do whatever he wanted. Even when what he wanted was something like watching Nightmare on Elm Street, in the middle of the night, when he was just a kid. Henry on the other hand, never hugged, never said I love you, or well done. He said; 'Not bad kid. But you need to work on...'

When they got to the arrest, Lassiter wasn't sure what to think. Shawn had been locked up for borrowing his dad's truck without permission. Who would lock their kid up with the criminals? Because that's where Shawn had been stuck, in with the drunks, rapists and (according to Shawn) serial killers (but Carlton suspected he was exaggerating). Lassiter knew the importance of discipline. He accepted that Shawn had been acting up a lot when he'd taken the truck. He understood that the divorce was final, and the father/son relationship was strained. But still. He couldn't imagine putting his own kid in with the scum he arrested every day. Not the mention, ending the chances of a great detective's career. Most academies don't accept recruits with even a misdemeanour on their record, but Grand Theft Auto? Given how much Henry had wanted Shawn to be a cop, it just didn't make sense to Carlton.  

When Shawn was done though, Carlton realised that Henry had just been doing whatever he could to prepare his son, giving him the tools he would need to survive as a detective. The older Spencer had done the best he could. Yes, he was emotionally constipated, but what cop of that generation wasn't? It wasn't helped by the fact that he was the only half of the parental unit that ever punished the younger Spencer. Mrs Spencer wasn't the best parent, because she didn't really know her son that well, and when she was home, she wanted him to be happy. Which wasn't always what was best for him. As for the arrest, even that made a certain sense, especially if Henry had really looked at his son and realised the kid would never willingly be a cop. He wasn't made for it. Oh, he was brilliant at solving crimes, but Shawn wasn't someone who could be faced with the darkness cops deal with everyday and walk away unscathed. The little break-down at four in the morning proved that. The kid just wanted to see the best in everyone. Lassiter might not entirely agree with Henry's methods, but he could see where the man was coming from. What really pissed him off though, is that the stern upbringing obviously hadn't worked. He wondered if Henry thought it was worth it.

 **_4am4am4am_ **

When the knocking came on the door, both of them jumped.

"Spencer, go back to the spare room." Lassiter ordered.

"What? Why?"

"Because as far as anyone knows, both of us are off sick with the flu. I don't want to have to explain this." He motioned between the two of them and looked pointedly at Shawn's wrists.

"Okay fine. But only because I'm tired, and that bed is like lying on petals and clouds." Shawn shuffled into the spare room and sat on the bed. He couldn't help but feel hurt, it was almost as though Lassiter was ashamed that he was here. And after Lassie had told him he didn't hate him and everything.

"Carlton!" A voice came along with the banging. Lassiter went and answered the door. He put on his best 'sick' face.

"Cough cough. 'Lo?"

"Carlton. Are you alright?"

"O'Hara? What are you doing here?"

"You're sick, I just wanted to check up on you." She smiled. "Look, here these are for you." She handed him a bag of soup and grapes.

"Thanks."

"How are you feeling?"

"Not too terrible. In fact, I could go to work -cough cough-´ if you need me." Lassiter replied.

"No, no. If you're ill you should stay home." She smiled again. "Speaking of ill people who should be at home..."

"Nice segue."

"Thanks. Shawn wasn't at his place when I stopped by, and with Gus out of town, you know how he gets about his own health."

Lassiter thought for a minute. He was going to have to tell her at least part of the truth.

"Shawn's in my spare room. He has a high fever and I didn't want him going home by himself. He showed up here delirious and high on cold medicine, that's how he gave this to me. I couldn't just let him wander off by himself!"

"Carlton! That's... almost sweet!"

"Thank you." Lassiter replied, warily. He took a step back, in case she leaped towards him for a hug or something.

"Here. This pineapple is for him. Tell him I said to get well soon."

"I will." Lassiter started to shut the front door.

"Carlton?"

"Yes?"

"Shawn... he is okay, right? It's probably nothing, and it might not even be about him, I mean I could be overreacting..."

"Spit it out O'Hara!"

"I overheard a bunch of patrolmen talking about a mockery and the devil and how he had gotten the message and I think they were talking about Shawn and what if they hurt him?" She said all this at about 50 miles per hour. Lassiter saw red. He'd suspected when he saw the bruises but the idea that someone could hurt Shawn, someone who was supposed to be one of the good guys, who was supposed to protect him, it actually made him physically ill.

"I'll deal with it." He said, his voice cold. Juliet knew better than to keep talking to Lassiter when he was in this mood. She smiled, nodded and got out of there as fast as she could.

 **_4am4am4am_ **

Meanwhile, Shawn was sitting on the bed in the spare room. He could hear Jules' dulcet tones, and considered going out to say hello. Then he remembered the handcuffs. But, what if Lassie was spilling his secret right now? What if he was telling Juliet all about his embarrassing break-down? Jules would hate him. She would be disappointed. Shawn curled up and laid down on his left side. He'd really screwed everything up. His whole life was over because he'd let it get to him. Because he'd had one drink too many.

 _Why did I do that? What the hell was I thinking?_ He curled up tighter, snuggling into the covers. He wasn't lying about the bed being as soft as the clouds. He felt tears threaten for no good reason and bit down on the inside of his mouth. _What's wrong with me? Why am I such a freak? Why is it so hard for me to control my emotions suddenly? I've been pretending for years!_  The answer was right in front of his face. _Shawn,_ his inner voice said (weirdly his inner voice sounded a lot like Gus). Yo _u're having trouble because you know you don't have to pretend anymore. It's a relief. At least not with Lassie. He knows. And he's still here. Taking care of you with that inimitable Lassiter style._

 __Shawn realised that his inner-Gus spoke sense. Much like his outer-Gus. Boy, did he miss his outer-Gus. But he'd be back in a few days. He was going to be so mad at Shawn for telling. Gus could be arrested too. He'd have to fix that. Tell Lassie Gus had no idea. He yawned. This bed was so nice and warm. And he was so tired. Tired of fighting. Of pretending.

Soon it would all be over.


	7. A Dream is just a dream (except when it's a memory).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one has a little bit of Gus, because I missed him. Warning for bad language and violence.

 Lassiter's first instinct was to charge into the spare room and demand answers.

 _Oh yeah, because demanding answers worked so well before!_ He took a deep breath. Then he took another. Counted to ten. But the rage inside him was building. It was like the confirmation that a cop did this had driven him to the edge. He had always wanted to be the wear the white hat and shoot the bad guys. To protect people. That's what being a police officer was all about. Cops were supposed to be the good guys! The idea of some of his people, physically assaulted one of their own... it literally sickened him. He looked at his already bruised knuckles and considered adding a new dent to the wall. As annoying as Shawn was, he didn't deserve being beaten up by people he's supposed to trust. Shawn was an ass. But he was a case solving ass, and he was Lassiter's ass.

 _That sounds wrong on so many levels,_  Lassiter thought, shaking his head. All he'd meant was that Shawn counted, as much as he hated to admit it, as one of his people and therefore his responsibility. And some of his guys had knocked the stuffing out of him, right under Carlton's nose. Some detective you turned out to be. He snorted. Before he could do anything, he needed a plan of attack. A way to get Spencer to talk. He placed the pineapple on the counter and set the coffee perking. Without even thinking about it, he got out two mugs and prepared two coffees. One just how he liked it, 3 creams, four sugars, and the other, how Spencer took it (One cream, three sugars). It wasn't until he was pouring the water in that he wondered when he had learned Shawn's coffee drinking habits.

He thought back over the last few months. Hell, the last few years, and he realised that he and Shawn had actually been friends for a while, even with all their bickering and differences. Then, with that in mind, he thought about his behaviour.

He didn't like what he saw.

Sure, Spencer wasn't psychic. He'd even admitted it. But the kid was a damn good detective, who closed cases.

 _Why did I keep shutting him out?_ He sat down at the table, coffees forgotten. His first thought was because the man was a fraud. But no. He'd known Shawn was a fake from the beginning. It wasn't that. Then he thought of the immaturity, unbefitting an officer of the law. But Shawn wasn't an officer of the law. He was a P.I. Not to mention that it was obvious to anyone and their grandma that Spencer and Guster just used their tomfoolery to avoid freaking out. To settle their nerves. A look at the Yang case would prove that to anyone who doubted. He finally came to a conclusion as he stared into his mug, and he didn't like it.

He was jealous. Pure and simple. Before Vick, Fenich was Chief. And Lassiter was his favourite. Already Head Detective and on the way to being Chief himself.

 _And then Fenich retires, Vick comes in, and Spencer is the new favoured child. A snot nosed brat with a perfect solve rate. And it's impossible not to like him. I should know, I've tried._ Shawn got all the friends, all the cases, all the glory. Carlton was tempted to get out the scotch and drink a wee dram. It's never pretty when you see inside yourself. What he was now realising was that the two of them were never really in competition. Spencer was a civilian. He would never be a rival for the Chief's spot. If he'd had half a brain he would have collaborated with Shawn. With Spencer as a resource, he would probably solve every case awarded to him. And Shawn had always gone out of his way to help and include Carlton, even though the Detective had thrown it back in his face, more than once.

 _No wonder he thinks I hate him. I was an ass. A bigger ass than he ever was. He helps me with cases, he tries to get me to have a social life. He believed me with the whole Drimmer Disaster. He was the first person I go to when I need help_.

His coffee was cold.

He busied himself brewing a new pot. He owed Spencer an apology, first off. Then he could give him the pineapple and ask him about what O'Hara had said.

 **_4am4am4am_ **

Burton Guster stared at his phone. He had had it turned off, as he always did when he was away on a business trip, because otherwise Shawn would call at 3 in the morning just to ask what the crocodile guy Hannibal dressed up as in the A-team was called. And Gus just couldn't deal with that on top of everything he was supposed to do for work. But this time, he was wondering if he should turn the phone on.

He was worried about Shawn. When that kid had died, Shawn had acted like his usual self, and Gus had been annoyed at him. He'd yelled at him and asked him if he'd had any feelings at all. It wasn't until later that he'd thought back and realised Shawn's tells were all showing. If Gus hadn't been so upset himself, he would have realised Shawn was hiding something. He knew Shawn better than anyone. He knew about the way Shawn really was. And why he felt he had to hide.

 _Stupid. He was hurt and hiding and you yelled at him! Some best friend._

 __His hand reached out towards the phone, seemingly of it's own accord. No. He'd be home in a few days. It would be better if they sorted this out in person. Anyway, that cute woman from Golden Shores Pharmaceutical had asked him to meet her for a drink. If he didn't leave now, he'd be late. Shawn was a grown man. He'd coped all those years on his road trip, with barely any contact, driving Gus to distraction. He could cope without his sidekick for a few measly days.

It's not like they were attatched at the hip.

He'd be fine.

 **_4am4am4am_ **

_*Flashback*_

 _He walked into the station, smiling. Gus was meeting him here and they were going to talk to Lassie and Jules about that string of robberies. One little vision and the Chief would hire them on the spot._

 _"Hey, Shawn!" A voice called. He thanked his photographic memory as he placed the man who's yelling him._

 _"Hey, John. How's Sarah?"_

 _"Fine, fine. Look can I talk to you?"_

 _"Sure, what's up?" They head into an office and suddenly there are more people, 2 more guys, and they've grabbed hold of his arms, pulling them behind him at an unnatural anlge. "Guys, what's going on here? I told Lassie I don't do hazing. So if that's what this is..."_

 _A fist in his stomach._

 _"Shut up!" one of them said. He wasn't sure which as he was busy concentrating on not puking._

 _"Listen to him! He flaunts the fact he's sucking the Detective's cock. Filthy fucker."_

 _"I'm not... You think me and Lassie? That's just funny!" Another fist. He recognised this guy now. Guy number 2, the homophobe. He usually worked with the gang unit. Under Drimmer. No wonder he thought they were gay. "You do realise that Drimmer was a dirty cop? He was a bad guy? Oh yeah, he was also lying!"_

 _Third fist to the stomach's the charm._

 _"He's not just a faggot, he's a fake and a mockery." Voice number three. "He is a stain on this police force and he makes us look like amateurs!"_

 _A vicious twist to his left arm._

 _"He doesn't deserve to be here. He hasn't earned the right."_

 _"Look, I solve crimes! I save lives, and I am not a fake!"_

 _A knee to the groin from Mr Homophobia._

 _"He offends God." That was John. Shit, Shawn had forgotten that John had gone out and found religion. And he hadn't found it in a regular nourishing, soul saving kind of way. He'd found it in a scary, Sunlight Gardener, Jason off True Blood, kind of way. The kind where you take it upon yourself to punish sinners._

 _"No, God no, I'm not, I wouldn't..."_

 _"Don't take the Lord's name in vain!" A rabbit punch to his side. "Don't suffer a witch to live."_

 _"Either he's a fake or a demon. Which is it 'psychic'?" Homophobe guy asked. "Are you here because you sold your soul, or because you let 'Lassie' have your ass-ie?"_

 _A forth solid punch in the gut. Shawn couldn't breath, let alone talk, and he finally gave into the urge to vomit, all over Homophobes shoes._

 _"Filthy fucker!" Blows rained down on him. They were careful to avoid his face, but everywhere else was fair game._

 _"Come on. Let's leave the piece of crap." Mr 'you're a fraud' said, giving Shawn a final kick to the ribs._

 _"Consider this a warning."Homophobe said."Get out of here. We don't want people like you around here." He spat onto his victim._

 _The door closed loudly behind them, and Shawn reached a shaking hand up to wipe the spittle from his face._

 _*End*_

 **_4am4am4am_ **

Lassiter went into the bedroom, coffee offering in one hand and Pineapple under his arm. He was surprised to find Shawn asleep. But he'd been restless last night. He looked so peaceful sleeping. Lassiter smiled, and decided that the conversation they would have would go better if Shawn was well rested. He shut the door, and leaned a chair against it. On the chair he put a pile of saucepans. Shawn wasn't going to get away, and if he chained his hands to the bed post again, he might wake him. Luckily, the window was painted shut.

He didn't hear Shawn whimper as he relived his first attack.

 **_4am4am4am_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sunlight Gardener is a character in a Stephen King Novel Talisman. It's a good book, worth the read. (I'm not sure how many people have read it, so I thought I'd explain the reference.) Also, no offense meant to religious people. I did make a point of saying that he hadn't found religion in the normal healthy way. I think religion's great for some people and I think most religious people are nice and normal, and friendly, in fact, I've had some really interesting conversations with our local Jehovah's witnesses. John isn't some 'religious nutcase'. He's in a psychotic break and Christianity just happens to be the focus of his delusions.


	8. A little less action a little more conversation.

When Shawn woke up, Lassiter was already in the kitchen. He was refreshed and determined. Today, he was finally going to get to the bottom of this.

"Juliet left you a pineapple." Lassiter said as Shawn came in.

"What?"

"It's on the counter." Shawn went over and picked it up. He hefted it, and gave Lassiter an odd look.

"How did she know I was here?"

"I told her." Carlton took a mouthful of his coffee.

"You TOLD her!" Shawn nearly dropped his pineapple, which would have been downright blasphemus.

"Yeah."

"What the Hell, man?"

"Spencer, relax. I said you were delirious and came over here to share your germs. We both have the 'flu, remember?"

"Oh, right. You lied to Jules? What did you say?" Shawn jumped up to sit on the counter and swung his legs back and forth. It was a difficult feat to achieve with his hands restrained, but he managed it (since he'd already shown Lassiter he could get out of the cuffs any time he wanted, he'd been ignoring them in the hopes that Lassie wouldn't feel the need to restrain him further).

"I told her you wandered over here, delirious, with a high temperature, hopped up on cold medicine. I couldn't in good conscience let you out like that, could I?" Lassiter replied mildly. He didn't make a sarcastic comment. He didn't tell Shawn to get his ass down off the counter, now. Shawn wasn't sure how to take this new nice Lassiter. He wasn't being a hard ass. So, he did what he always does.

"Where is it?" He asked, looking around the kitchen.

"Where's what?"

"The pod you climbed out of."

"Spencer...!" Lassiter ground out, his good mood beginning to dissolve. He closed his eyes, gritted his teeth and took a deep breath. "I'm... Am I not allowed to be nice to you?"

"No. It ruins our whole dynamic. That would make you Gus. And Gus would then have to take on the role of you, and he just couldn't pull off the whole bad-cop Irish hairline thing."

"Riiiiiiight..." Lassiter shook his head. "Anyway, O'Hara says get well soon. She also told me about an interesting conversation she overheard."

"Ooh, gossip! Do tell."

"Well, it seems that a group of uniforms were bragging about sending someone a message." Shawn paled. "Do you know who that might be, Spencer?"

"What? Why would I know?"

"Well, you are psychic after all." Lassiter stated, deadpan. Then sighed."I'd put money on their fists matching your bruises."

"Will you just let it go already!"

"Spen...Shawn. This is serious. Please. Talk to me." Shawn looked at him for a long moment, assessing. He took a deep breath.

"Fine. It started a couple of weeks ago. They've jumped me three or four times now."

"Who are they?" It was almost a growl.

"John Ellis, Colby Randolf, and George Truman."

"Why are they doing this?"

"They each have their own reasons. What I don't get is how they hooked up. They all work in different departments and they have nothing in common except their loathing of me."

"Come on, Spencer. Cops talk. Pissed off cops talk loud. In the bar, at the gym, at church."

"Yeah." Shawn looked at the floor.

"You want to tell me about it?"

"John's recently become one with the Lord. He thinks I've sold my soul to the Devil. I'm not sure if he wants to kill me or save me. George, he worked for Drimmer, and believed him when he said that we were doing it. He's a total homophobe. As for Colby, he thinks that I'm a fraud, and that I make light of police work."

"Well, one of them got it right at least." Lassiter muttered, quietly. But not quietly enough. He missed the brief spasm of hurt pass over Shawn's features before the mask was firmly back in place. Lassiter spoke louder. "Why didn't you tell anyone?"

"I thought I could handle it myself. Anyway, it's not like it's that big a deal."

"Not that big a deal?" Carlton shook his head. "Spencer, you aren't that stupid. Look at you! They could have killed you!"

"Like I said, not that big a deal." Shawn replied, shrugging.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Suddenly, Carlton was shouting. He didn't notice the way Shawn flinched back from his anger, raising his cuffed hands a little in defence. "Since when is your life worth so little? Spencer, we see enough death every day, why are you so willing to put yourself in harm's way? How many times have you stepped in front of a gun? Gone haring off to a crime scene without back up? Bad mouthed the bad guy? Do you want to die?"

"NO!" The word burst out of Shawn with a passion he didn't know he had. "I don't want to die. But, sometimes..." His voice became a defeated whisper. "Sometimes I wonder if things would be better without me."

Lassiter stared at him. The problem went deeper than he thought. This wasn't just... how was he supposed to handle this? He wasn't sure if he should stage an intervention, or what. His first instinct was to yell. He went with it.

"Damn it, Spencer! You are not allowed to die! Do you know how much paperwork there would be? Not to mention, Guster would be moping around. And what about Juliet! How am I supposed to deal with a partner who is mourning the boyfriend she never had!" He stood up from his seat at the kitchen table and strode towards Shawn, really angry now. "How dare you? I knew you were selfish, but I had no idea how bad. You've saved lives. You're annoying as hell, and some days it's all I can do not to punch you in the mouth, but if you just drop down dead, then everyone who you saved, everyone you could save..." He trailed off, shaking his head.

"ENOUGH!" Shawn yelled. He was shaking. "Enough. I've had it! I'm tired, my wrists ache, I'm fed up. All I want to do is get a proper night's sleep in my own bed. But you! You have to stage a fricking intervention! You chain me up, you feed me chicken soup, you treat me like a goddamn invalid! But you know as well as I do that you should have taken me in as soon as I 'fessed up! And now? Now, you want to punch me too? Brilliant. That's just what I need." He was shouting, and he suddenly realised it. He took a deep breath, and when he spoke again, his voice was quiet; almost broken. "Just let me go. Just... let me go."

"Spencer, I can't do that. You know I can't do that. I need... you need help. You can't just keep dealing with this by putting on that happy shiny mask and make glib eighties references."

"Why? It's worked for years! You don't... you don't even know me. I'm a disappointment to everyone. Nothing I do is ever good enough. I try and I try, but..." He shrugged. "I run away when things get difficult. I'm a freak. I treat my friends like crap."

"That's all bullshit! You save people's lives all the time. You solve crimes that baffle entire departments. And Guster isn't the moron you like to pretend he is. If you treated him that badly, he wouldn't stick around." He shook his head. "The truth, Spencer. You hide beneath this crap, it's all you ever do. You prance around, like everything's fine and treat everything like it's a big party. Hell, you got shot, but it's all a game, right?"

"No. No it's not a game! It's..." He snorted. "You wouldn't understand."

"Try me."

"Seriously. There is no way that you could possibly get it."

"Gee Spencer, I may not be a genius, but I am not an idiot either."

"It's not something I can explain!" He tried to run a hand through his hair but the manacles got in the way.

"Try." Lassiter folded his arms.

"Why do you even care? What's the point?"

"What makes you think you are so worthless? What made you decide to stop pretending?"

"Like you said, I'm annoying, selfish..." he grinned at throwing Lassiter's words back at him.

"No. It's something else." Lassiter tilted his head, thinking. Suddenly he clicked his fingers. "It's because of the girl. No, not her exactly. What she represents."

"What are you talking about? That's crazy talk, Lassie-pants."

"No, see, that's you deflecting. That means I'm on the right track."

"Deflecting? You've been talking to my Mom again, haven't you?"

Lassiter thought things over. He may not be a super-genius like Spencer, but he was a damn good detective. He knew he could put this together. He started with the death of the child. That was the catalyst. Shawn had been upset at the scene, but had acted like it hadn't affected him. He made a reference to The Breakfast Club, called Guster a silly name and flirted with O'Hara. But then he went home and drank for 32 hours before showing up on Lassiter's porch. And the rest of this stuff was just bubbling under the surface until they hadn't saved her. Lassiter replayed their conversations in his head.

 _He thinks I hate him, he has to beg the Chief for cases, he is way smarter than anyone believes. His childhood wasn't ideal..."nothing I do is ever good enough." Oh. Is that it?_

"You did all you could. It wasn't your fault." Carlton's voice was almost gentle.

"What?" Shawn looked up, eyes wide.

"The girl. She died, and it was sad. But you did your best and it wasn't your fault." _I don't know if I'll want to go fishing with Henry again. He really messed the kid up_.

"I screwed up!" Shawn pushed himself off the counter, and walked to the other end of the kitchen, not looking at Lassiter.

"No, you solved it. We caught the bad guy. We...you saved God knows how many children who would have been killed in the future."

"No. I... I failed. I let that little girl die. I missed a clue. I played the psychic card and I knew you and the Chief would need more than that. I waited and pissed around, trying to convince you all, and I... if I was a cop, if I was just a regular P.I. if I hadn't been worried about my act... she might have lived."

"Moron." Lassiter said, but his tone was friendly, even mildly amused.

"Excuse me? I am experiencing manly angst here and you call me a moron?"

"If the boot fits."

"What did you just say to me?"

"If. The _boot._ Fits."

"Dude. Did you just quote Toy Story at me?"

"...No."

"Oh, you so did! I bet you're a Sherriff Woody fan, huh?"

"Well... Hey! We were having a moment and you interrupted it with inappropriate humour! I'm trying to have a serious conversation with you!"

"It's what I do." A shrug.

"You are a moron, you know? If it wasn't for you we wouldn't have gotten Jameson at all. You are so good at being a detective that it's ridiculous. If you were a cop, you'd be fed up all the time. Not to mention you'd be constrained by warrants and subpoenas the same as the rest of us. We'd never catch anyone that way." Lassiter took a deep breath. This next bit was actually going to hurt. "As for the whole 'psychic' charade. That's mostly my fault. If I had just listened that first day, instead of trying to arrest you... well, this would be a whole different story. That day. When the girl died. We should have listened to you. When have you been wrong? You need to stop feeling guilty. It's my fault; at least as much as it is yours. And what about the Chief? I didn't realise how she treats you until I really thought about it today. How many times have you been wrong? You had to beg to be put on the case. And then you still solved it far faster than the rest of us, with the added problems of me mocking you and those bastards hassling you!"

"Easy Lassie. Down boy. It's not that bad. The Chief can't just constantly let me on every case. She has budget issues. And you know I'm not the most professional consultant in the world." Lassiter looked at him. Really looked. And he realised what the problem was. Shawn was chronically unable to see the worst in people. He saw Vick and Lassiter as his friends, the good guys and as such, they were above reproach. The officers who beat him, they were still cops, so they must be in the right. He could figure out crimes and bad guys motives, but he couldn't accept evil in people he sees as good (which thanks to his father, included the entire police department). That had shown clear in the Drimmer investigation. Shawn was... innocent. But, because he couldn't blame them, he could only blame himself. And his father had reinforced this state of mind.

"Sweet merciful justice, Spencer! Are you really that arrogant? You think you're God, is that it? Able to control everything? You think you should be able to spot evidence that the entire precinct missed?" He shook his head. "You're a brilliant detective (and if you tell anyone I said that, I will shoot you) but you are not all powerful. You couldn't know that he would break pattern and kill the kid a day early. I hate to break it to you, but you are not psychic!"

There was a moment of heavily charged silence and then they both started to laugh.


	9. Chief Vick takes charge

When they caught their breath, they were both more relaxed than they had been in days.

"What now?" Shawn asked.

"Now? Now, we go down to the station. First, we'll have a word with the Chief about those bastards who thought it would be a good idea to beat up our psychic." Shawn smiled at the possessive lilt.

"And then?"

"I have to tell her. I'm in an untenable position." Lassiter needed Shawn to understand.

"I get it. I do. Really."

"Look, we can word it in such a way that it's hypothetical."

"What?"

"She needs to know. Just in case the shit hits the fan. But, we can say something like... 'What if a guy came up to you and pretended to be psychic, but really he had an eidetic memory? What would you do?' Something like that."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. I'm sure." He smiled, reassuringly.

 **_4am4am4am_ **

Henry burst into the Chief's office. He was worried. It had been a couple of days since he'd gotten a call from Lassiter, and he'd been suspicious, and worried, ever since.

"Karen!"

"Henry? To what do we owe this pleasure. And knock next time."

"Shawn doesn't get sick." Well, that wasn't exactly true. Shawn did get sick, but he refused to take time off. Shawn only ever admitted he was sick when he was forcedly hospitalised. The kid had always hated being ill, ever since he was a kid. He would never have called in sick for just the flu.

"Excuse me?" 

"Shawn doesn't get sick. Lassiter called me a couple of days ago and told me Shawn had the 'flu. It was suspicious enough that Shawn was admitting he was sick in the first place. But Lassiter? Why would he call and tell me my kid was sick?

I thought the kid just needed time to get over the last case, but he's not answering his cell phone. And if it was something like that, if he was having trouble, Gus wouldn't have left him to go on that stupid trip. I went by his apartment and the place was a tip. Something's wrong."

"I'm sure Shawn is fine. And Lassiter wouldn't lie. He never takes time off, even when he's sick, so it must be a bad 'flu. And Shawn was fine. He was making jokes as usual."

"If you think that then you aren't as smart as I gave you credit for."

"Excuse me?"

"Shawn jokes as a coping mechanism. He's a very good liar, and excellent at concealing his feelings."

"You know, I think that's the first time I've heard you compliment your son. At least, since he's grown up." She smiled wryly.

"Well, you know how he is."

"Yes. I do. I'm sure he's ill."

"I know my kid, Karen. And something stinks."

She opened her mouth to respond, but he cut her off.

"Gus isn't here to rein him in. If he is up to something, then we might be in trouble. Or he might be. What I don't understand is what your detective is doing helping him."

"Oh dear lord." Vick said, thinking back over all the mischief Shawn got into with Gus. Without that stable influence... she really didn't want to go there. "I'm sure that Detective Lassiter wouldn't be involved in anything...improper."

"Karen. You know how persuasive Shawn can be." He chided gently.

There was a knock at the door.

"Chief, I... Oh, Mr Spencer. I didn't see you there."

"Detective O'Hara." Karen nodded. "What is it?"

"Is everything alright? Has Shawn gotten worse?" Juliet asked, looking back and forth between them.

"Have you seen Mr Spencer since he's been off ill? Henry went over to his apartment..."

"Oh, he didn't tell you?" Juliet smiled. "He showed up at Lassiter's delirious and Carlton couldn't just let him wander around like that, and by this point, he'd already given Carlton the 'flu, so Carlton let him crash in his spare room."

"That doesn't sound like Detective Lassiter." Vick frowned.

"I told you. Shawn is up to something." Henry folded his arms and sat back, smiling smugly.

"I'll call Lassiter. O'Hara, was there something you wanted?"

"Oh, just to drop off my report." Juliet quickly handed the folder over and got out of there. Henry watched as Vick dialled.

"Detective Lassiter... Hello... Yes, I just wanted to check up on you and Mr Spencer. It is so unusual for either of you to get ill...Yes, I'm sure. Detective O'Hara mentioned that he was staying with you?...You are? Okay. Well, I guess I'll see you soon then." She hung up, looking confused. "That was odd."

"What did he say?"

"He said they were just about to leave to come here."

 **_4am4am4am_ **

Lassiter walked into the bullpen. He had his right hand around Shawn's upper arm, and was gently pulling the 'psychic' along. He glared at anyone who came near them. As for Shawn, he was staring at the ground two inches in front of him, and ignoring his surroundings. Unheard of for him. Lassiter looked at the younger man with almost gentle concern.

"Carlton! Shawn!" Juliet cried. She approached them quickly, but stopped a few feet away. "Are you alright?"

"O'Hara..."

"We're just fine, Jules." Shawn replied, finally looking up, with a small smile.

"Okay..." She didn't look satisfied, but as she watched, Lassiter actually growled at Buzz as he went over to say hello, so she backed off.

The two men headed straight for Vick's office, but then Lassiter stopped suddenly, pulling Shawn to a halt beside him.

"Spencer, your father is in there."

"Wonderful. My humiliation is complete." Shawn muttered. "Trust his impeccable timing. I swear the man has a Shawn-sense. He only shows up when it will totally embarrass me."

"We can leave and do this later." Carlton suggested. Shawn considered the idea, but as he looked around, he realised that everyone was staring at them and trying not to look like they were staring at them.

"No, if we leave now, we'll just add grist the rumour mill." Shawn squared his shoulders and nodded. "Let's do this thing."

They knocked, well, Lassiter did.

"Enter." Vick called.

"Shawn, what the hell have you gotten yourself into now?"

"Gee, Dad, thanks. I'm fine by the way. How are you?"

"Shawn..."

"Dad..."

"Mr Spencer. Henry." The Chief said, chidingly.

"Chief Vick!" Shawn grinned, but it didn't reach his eyes.

"Lassiter!" Carlton exclaimed, getting weird looks from everybody.

"Dude!" Shawn grinned and offered a fist to bump. "First Toy Story and now you reference Shrek! I'm so proud." He wiped a fake tear away.

"Oh my goodness. It's contagious," the Chief said, stating the first thought that came into her head.

"Oh, Chief Vick. Don't be a smelly plate of cabbage!"

"Not your best." Lassiter muttered.

"I know. Sorry." Shawn replied.

"Mr Spencer! What have you done to my detective?"

"Lassie-face? Nothing!"

"Then why is he acting like... well, you?"

"We have just spent about three days together in Lassie's little apartment."

"What have you been doing? And how did you manage not to kill each other?" Henry asked. The boys exchanged a glance.

"Erm..."Lassiter said, doing his impression of a deer right before the car hits.

"What have we been doing? Having a Die Hard Marathon, and experimenting in bondage." Shawn answered glibly. Lassiter spluttered. Henry focussed in on his son's wrists noticing the skin there was red and inflamed.

"Shawn! What happened? These look like cuff marks, and don't make another off colour remark." He gently took Shawn's wrist in his hand.

"Erm..." Shawn's turn to splutter.

"He was annoying me, so I cuffed him." Lassiter came to his rescue. He took a breath. "Chief, could we maybe talk to you in private?"

"It won't work. He won't leave, and even if he did walk out of the office, he'd just listen at the door." Shawn sighed. "Lassie, do we have to do this? I told you, I can handle it."

"No, you can't. And I want the chance to arrest those bastards." The tone was more venomous than normal.

"Detective, Mr Spencer. Would one of you care to fill me and Henry in on the rest of this conversation?"

They exchanged a glance. Lassiter made and 'after you' motion.

"It's really not a big deal. Lassie's blown it all out of proportion."

"Not a big deal, my ass!" Lassiter was suddenly angry. More angry than he had been this entire time. He released the grip he had kept on Shawn's upper arm and quickly pulled up the other man's shirt, revealing several day old bruises. Some fading to green, but a lot still a deep blackish purple. "They could have fucking killed you Spencer. And you said this wasn't the first time."

"Shawn!" Henry had gone pale at the sight of his son's torso. "What the hell happened!"

"Dad, I'm fine, really." He pushed Lassie's hand away, pulling down his shirt. He looked at the floor.

"Karen," Carlton said, invoking the Chief in a way that he rarely dared. "This happened here. Cops did this."

"What?" She looked between the two younger men. "Mr Spencer is this true?" He shrugged, then nodded.

"What did you do? Did you do anything to provoke them?" Henry asked, leaning forward in his chair, towards Shawn.

Lassiter's hands became fists. He wasn't sure why he was so angry. If Shawn had come in and just told him some cops had beat him up, he'd probably have had the same reaction. But having seen the man at his worst, he felt a sort of... kinship with him, as much as it pained him to admit.

"Dad, I... I didn't do anything. I just solved cases they couldn't."

"It wasn't his fault, Mr Spencer. The men in question aren't entirely stable. One worked in the gang unit under Drimmer and took his word as gospel. One seems to be suffering from some kind of religious psychosis and I have no idea how he passed the psych. And the third is actually an okay cop, but he is jealous of Shawn's abilities." Carlton said quickly.

Vick frowned. She had seen everything. Detective Lassiter was supporting Shawn Spencer. And he didn't roll his eyes or act sarcastic when he mentioned Shawn's powers.

"Mr Spencer, how long has this been going on?"

"A few weeks." He answered reluctantly. "But I can handle it."

"Shawn. You tell Karen exactly what happened and how long it's been going on. Okay, kid?"

"Henry, please. I am handling it. You know perhaps Detective Lassiter is right. Maybe you should wait outside."

"That's my kid there Karen!"

"I know that, Henry. But..."

"But nothing! I have a right to know what's going on with my own son!"

"Urgh!" Shawn shuddered. "Bad divorce flashback," he explained. Lassiter stifled a smile.

"Mr Spencer, who did this to you?"

"Chief, it's really nothing...you aren't going to let this go, are you?"

"No. Shawn, please. Why didn't you come to me in the first place?"

 __

 _Because you don't care. You use me to solve cases, but you don't like or respect me. You ignore me when it suits your needs. You put up with me because I'm useful, but when Lassie tells you about his hypothetical fake psychic, you're going to chase me away because I'm not worth it.  
_  
That's what Shawn wanted to say. But in reality, he just stood there, mouth flapping. Then he shrugged, looking again to the floor.

"It was Officers Randolf, Ellis, and Truman." Lassiter inserted.

"I'll kill them. I'll kill them!" Henry exclaimed, standing and heading towards the door. he went back up in Lassiter's estimations.

"Dad, no! Please. If you go out there and rough them up, you'll just make it worse. It's bad enough that they think I'm in here crying to Mommy! There's no proof but my word. They're cops." He shrugged again. He seemed to be doing that a lot today.

"Did you think I wouldn't believe you?" Vick asked, with sudden insight.

"No offence? But yeah, that's what I thought. Me against a bunch of cops? I'm just a consultant and half the time you don't even have time for me."

"Mr Spencer, Shawn, you may be a consultant, but you're a very good one. I can't think of a time when you were wrong. If you had come to me with this, then I would have dealt with it."

"Yeah. I'm sure. But these guys are cops. Their friends are cops. They were careful and I have no evidence. I have some bruises, which I could have got anywhere. So, it's my word a 'psychic'," he said that with a sarcastic venom she hadn't heard from him before, "against three upstanding members of the police department. Who do you think would win?"

"I accept that there are some issues, but we could have made sure you were safe here. We could have investigated."

"And now?" Shawn asked, and his father nodded, raising an eyebrow.

"Now, we're still going to do all that. The only difference is that you had to suffer in silence. You should have come to me before they hurt you." Vick grinned. She was going to enjoy fixing this. It had obviously been going on too long. "Lassiter, get O'Hara in here."


	10. Plans are made.

Juliet pretended to do her paperwork. She was unable to concentrate though. She sat there, staring at the office. What's happening in there? Shawn looked terrible! But Lassiter didn't look sick at all. And why was Shawn's dad here? She chewed on the end of her pen. There was something going on for sure. And they had cut her out of it.

"O'Hara!" Lassiter opened the office door suddenly and yelled. "Get in here!"

She couldn't hold back a grin as she got up and followed him back to the office. When she got there though, the smile faded. She had never seen Shawn look so sad and somehow small.

"Shawn, are you alright?" She put her hand on his shoulder. He opened his mouth to say 'I'm fine', but Chief Vick spoke first.

"Detective Lassiter has brought it to my attention that Mr Spencer has been harassed and assaulted by members of our own precinct."

"What? Oh, Shawn. Did they hurt you? Are you alright?" Shawn flinched a little. Her brand of sympathy rubbed him the wrong way, made him feel raw and exposed.

"Jules, please. I'm not some four year old who's fallen on the play ground and skinned my knee. I'm fine. Really."

"Shawn..." His father warned at his tone.

"What, Dad? I am fine." Lassiter snorted. But he didn't say anything. He knew that Shawn wasn't fine, and when they were done here, he was going to have another discussion with the psychic. Fake psychic.

"No, Shawn, you're not fine. You got beat up by a bunch of cops and then decided it was a good idea to cover it up." Henry said, folding his arms.

"So, Officers John Ellis, Colby Randolf, and George Truman. What do we know about them and why they did this?" Vick asked.

"John was a nice guy. But his wife died, and he found religion, and well... he got creepy." Jules said, shaking her head. "He's become super, super religious, and tries to tell everyone else how to live their lives. He told me the other day that I was going to go to Hell for tempting honest men."

"Jules, you are so not going to Hell. You're the least sinful... sinister... hellish person I know!" Shawn defended staunchly.

"Thank you, Shawn." She smiled.

"Children. Back to the topic at hand." Lassiter scowled. "George Truman is a homophobe who worked for Drimmer."

"And Colby Randolf, he thinks I'm a fraud who shows up the police department." Shawn added.

"Do we know if they socialise outside the precinct?"

"No, Chief. That's what I don't get. They hardly know each other, but they all jumped me together."

"Hmm. So we probably won't be able to catch them that way. Lassiter, O'Hara, do either of you know them well?"

"No," they said together.

"They seem to think I'm gay with Spencer and that's why we still use him on cases." Lassiter filled in. "So they have the same problems with me that they have with Shawn." Everyone considered this for a moment, then Vick slowly started to smile.

"Mr Spencer, how do you feel playing bait?" Vick asked, leaning forward. The room erupted. Lassiter, Henry, even Juliet (and she hadn't even seen the results of the last beating) all began shouting and complaining at once.

"Karen, what the Hell? You want to put Shawn in harm's way! He's not a cop and he has no sense of self preservation..."

"Chief, Spencer is already hurt! We can't just let them jump him again to get evidence! He'll let them kill him if it gets them put away..."

"Chief, you can't ask Shawn to do that! You know what he's like..." They all spoke over each other in a show of protective concern that sent a wave of warm fuzzyness through Shawn's soul. But did they have to do that now? He opened his mouth to tell them all that his life was his life after all and he was living it not them, when he heard a familiar ring-tone. His ring tone. Well, more specifically, Gus's ringtone on his phone. It was coming from Lassiter's pocket.

"Lassie, is that my phone in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?" Shawn grinned. The tension was diffused nicely.

"Sorry." Lassiter said, flushing a little as he handed the phone over.

"Hello?" Shawn said into the phone.

"Shawn! Are you okay? I just turned my phone back on and you hadn't called me once!"

"Gussy-face! I missed you too!"

"Don't play with me, Shawn! What's going on with you? I usually get a hundred messages from you a day when I haven't seen you. The last time you didn't annoy me in this long, you were in hospital, in that coma from your bike accident! Oh my God! Were you in a coma? Did you only just wake up? Shawn, you know you shouldn't have your cell phone on in the hospital! I'll come home, there's only two more days of the convention anyway..."

"Gus! Easy, man. I am not in the hospital. I have not been in a coma. You need to calm down. I am fine. There's nothing going on here."

Henry snorted and grabbed the phone off Shawn.

"Hey!"

"Gus, it's Henry. Shawn has been beaten up by a bunch of cops. He's been harassed by them for weeks and he didn't say anything to us. Get your butt back here."

"Yes sir. I'm on my way." Gus hung up, and immediately began packing up his belongings.

 _Shawn, what the Hell, man? Why didn't you say anything? Or wasn't I paying attention? Did you try and tell me? Did I blow it off as one of your usual jokes? Here I was worried you'd be freaking out, obsessing over that case, the girl's death. That's why I turned my phone on. But no, you've been hurt by some cops. Our supposed friends. And I didn't know,_ Gus thought furiously.

He shoved his clothes into his case, creasing his suits, and slammed it shut.

"Daaaaad! Why did you tell him? You know what a worrywart Gus is!" Shawn whined.

"He's also your best friend." Henry replied, raising an eyebrow. They got back to plotting. It was several minutes later when the door to the Chief's office burst open and a uniformed officer was standing there, clutching a file. A wave of anger crossed his face as he looked at the group gathered there, then his face became an expressionless mask.

"Officer Randolf. What do you think you're doing, bursting into my office like that?" Vick growled. At least she had a legitimate excuse to let out her anger.

"I'm sorry, Chief, I just need you to sign off on a warrant for Detective Grimes." She did so and he left.

"We got a problem." Colby Randolf said, bursting into the locker room where his associates were.

"What is it?" Ellis asked, lacing up his boots.

"I just came from the Chief's office and Spencer was in there, with Spencer Senior, Lassiter and O'Hara. He must have told them."

"He isn't even supposed to be in the precinct. I thought we'd made that clear." Truman frowned.

"What are we going to do?" Ellis asked, fingering his rosary.

"We're going to get him." Colby replied. "And his little friends too."


	11. Bad things happen when you don't follow the rules.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: DARKNESS, DESPAIR, DEPRAVITY AND OTHER BAD THINGS THAT START WITH D. ALSO LANGUAGE. Sorry. Dark turn in this chapter, just briefly though.

They'd been plotting for about twenty minutes now. All so angry, so concerned. Especially since Colby came in. Shawn couldn't even look at him. Everyone telling him it would be okay, and what they were going to do. It was too much. They were all being so considerate...while they told him exactly what was going to happen. Not asking him what he wanted to do _, telling_ him.

For his own good.

Shawn had to get out of there. He just stood up, and walked out of the office. Lassiter managed to stop the others from following him.

"I'll be right back," he muttered.

It was just too much. They were smothering him. How could they be so worried about him? How could he be so wrong about how they felt? He was a genius after all, and hyper-observant. He of all people should have noticed that they cared.

 _Apparently I'm not as smart as I thought,_  Shawn thought ruefully. He thought it again, not ten minutes later when he realised how stupid it was to walk through the Station by himself. It was at roughly the same time as he was grabbed from behind, his right arm twisted up behind him, another arm coming across his throat.

"What the-" he gasped.

"Say another word and I kill you right here." It was Truman. His arm tightened, and Shawn could barely breathe.

 _Stupid, stupid, stupid! What the hell were you thinking, Shawn? Brilliant, just brilliant! I'll just walk down this dark corridor by myself! That's such a good idea, never mind that there are three evil cops on a mission after me! I am such a moron. I just broke the first rule of the movies. Never split up. Never go off by yourself. Shit. I even said 'I'll be right back'._

 __The other two crooked cops met Shawn and Truman in an unused office.

"Hi, there Shawn." Randolf smiled. "It's good to see you're alright. I heard you got into a bit of a scrape. Got yourself hurt."

Truman released his hold on Shawn and shoved him to the ground. He fell, bruising his knees.

"Leave me alone," Shawn said.

"Aw, why would you want us to do that?" Truman smirked.

"We do our duty to the Lord."Ellis added.

"I saw you earlier. You were in the office. With your little fanclub," Colby told him, leaning in close. "I know, because I was there."

"You wouldn't have told them about our little altercation, would you?" Truman asked. "Of course you did. I bet that your big bad detective, dear Lassie, noticed the bruises. What did he do, handcuff you to the bed and refuse to fuck you until you told him what happened?"

"No!" Shawn replied. He was actually a little weird-ed out by how close Truman was to what had actually happened.

"Yeah, I bet that's exactly what happened." Colby inserted, ignoring Shawn. "And then, ickle Shawnie here went running to Daddy."

"Thou shalt respect thy mother and father." John frowned. "Does your father know of the Devil inside you?"

"Look, I'm getting serious Criminal Minds flashbacks here. If you guys start burning fish livers, I'm out of here."

"Stop it!" Colby back-handed him. "You don't take anything fucking seriously, do you?"

"When are you going to get the message, no one wants you here! You fucking fag." Truman punctuated his statement with a kick to Shawn's ribs. Shawn curled in on himself, protecting his front-side.

"You deserve to burn in Hell." John smiled. Then he added a kick to Shawn's unprotected back.

"I told you not to tell anyone. There were rules. You broke them. You deserve everything you get!" Colby growled.

"You know," Truman's hands went to his own belt. "Maybe I should just fuck you."

"What?" Shawn croaked out. He was remembering stats he'd read on most homophobes being deeply repressed sexually. And they tended to react with sexual violence.

"Yeah, I could ruin you, and then that faggot detective wouldn't want you around anymore. No one else cares."

"No, please!" Shawn protested. "Look, I'm not with Lassie, okay? He's just a guy I work with, maybe a friend, but we aren't entirely sure about that yet. And I would never sleep with him! At least, not until he removed the stick from his ass."

There was a pause as everybody reflected on how badly worded that protest was. Truman reached into his pants, his belt already open...

 

 

 **_4am4am4am_ **

**_  
_ **

 

"Shawn, are you alright?" Buzz McNabb to the rescue!

"Shawn took a little tumble. We were just trying to help him out." Colby said, smiling as he pulled Shawn to his feet. Truman hurriedly sorted his trousers out. Shawn gave a sigh of relief that further nastiness had been avoided.

"Buzz, buddy, give a guy a hand?" Shawn grabbed for Buzz and leaned heavily on the officer, shaking slightly as McNabb helped him out into the corridor.

"Shawn, what happened?"

"Nothing, Buzz. I fell, I'm fine." He grinned, but it was a half hearted attempt. He needed to get out of here, even more than before. He pulled away from his friend.

"Shawn!" Buzz called after him, but Shawn ignored him. He'd go outside and walk around the block to the smoothie joint. Maybe then he'd feel more like himself.

 **_4am4am4am_ **

"Do you think he'll agree?" Vick asked. The wire she had offered to Spencer was lying in plain view on her desk.

"Of course he will!" Jules replied instantly. "It's his best chance. He'll want to stop them, won't he?"

"He will if I have anything to say about it." Henry added. "And where is that boy anyway? He just stormed out of here like a teenager in a temper tantrum."

"He just needed some air. I would if I were him." Lassiter replied.

"Carlton, why are you suddenly on Shawn's side in everything?" Karen asked him.

"I'm not! I just... so, I'm cutting the kid a little slack, there's nothing wrong with that." 

There was a knock in the office door.

"Come in!" Everyone shouted it at once, much to Vick's dismay.

"Chief, Detectives, Mr Spencer," Buzz greeted them nervously. "Um, Shawn had an accident and he just left the station, but there was something weird."

"What do you mean an accident?" Henry asked.

"Is he okay?" Jules asked.

"What happened?" Lassiter growled. Buzz was a little taken aback.

"I was looking for Shawn, because Francine packed me a Tupperware tub full of pineapple with my lunch today, and I was wondering if he'd like some. Sergeant James said he'd seen Shawn go down that back corridor where the old records room is. So, I went down there, and I heard a weird noise coming from one of the unused offices."

"Wait, there are unused offices? Then why do I still have to have my desk in the bullpen!"

"Detective Lassiter!" Chief Vick frowned.

"I mean, I am so glad that I still have my desk amongst my fellow detectives." Lassiter corrected himself, voice full of sarcasm.

"What happened then, Buzz?" Juliet asked.

"Well this is where it got strange. Shawn was on the ground, and officers Randolf, Truman and Ellis were standing over him. I asked if he was alright and helped him out of the office. He said he was fine, and that he had just fallen over. But I didn't believe him. I don't know exactly what happened, but I don't know why Shawn would be in that back office. Or why he'd be with those three. Then he just took off, out the front."

"What? He left the station?" Lassiter asked, standing up.

"Yes, sir."

Lassiter was off and running


	12. Suffer not

_What the hell was he thinking? Running off like that. I know he needed space, but God! Okay, think like Spencer. I've been doing that far too much lately._ Lassiter frowned. He'd reached the front door and pushed out into the car park. There, he paused. Which way to go? He closed his eyes and tried to figure out where Shawn would have gone.

"Hey Lassie." A small voice came from behind him. He spun around and tried to find the younger man. "Over here."

A hand waved from behind a large planter. Lassiter went over and found Shawn curled up in the alcove behind it. He was impossible to see if you didn't know he was there.

"What the hell were you thinking? Why did you just run off like that?" Shawn didn't answer, just looked down at the floor. Lassiter sighed and sank to the ground beside Spencer. "What happened?"

"I was going for a smoothie. I didn't make it."

"Are you hurt?"

"I was such a moron."

"Tell me something I don't know."

"Oh, my sides. Ha. Ha and also ha. You are so hilarious."

"What happened, Spencer?"

"I just needed some air. Everyone was so, so, concerned. I walked through the station and I got grabbed and dragged to a nice deserted area, and beaten up. Again."

"How bad?"

"Just a few more bruises. Nothing serious."

"Okay. Then what happened?"

"He said... he said he'd ruin me, so you wouldn't want me anymore. I told them we weren't, you know, together, but they didn't believe me. He was... he was going to rape me."

"WHAT!"

"Easy, Lassie. Buzz came in at just the right moment. But... it was a close one. I don't even want to think about..." He trailed off and shook his head.

"From now on, you don't go anywhere without a guard."

"Won't that ruin the whole plan?"

"We'll make a new plan."

"Like what? You know as well as I do that this is the best way. Pretty much the only way we can secure a conviction."

"I know." Lassiter ran a hand through his hair. "I don't have to like it though."

They sat there together for several minutes, just thinking.

"Why me? What did I do?" Shawn asked, sounding so much like a child. "All I wanted to do was help."

"I know. I do understand that. If I didn't, you'd be sitting in a cell inside."

"Yeah, what's with that?"

"Excuse me?"

"You've been wanting to arrest me forever."

"We've been over this."

"We have?"

"Yes. You're helping people, and I need to think this over. You may be a fraud, but you stop worse crimes. How am I supposed to make that decision? We're going to tell Vick. I have to, but that's it."

"Why do you care so much? Why does anyone care?" Shawn hunched further in on himself.

"Because. You make them care, make us care. You're annoying and sarcastic, and childish. But you're a good guy. As much as it pains me to admit it." Shawn smiled a little at that. "Come on, we need to go back inside." Lassiter paused, shaking his head. "But if we see those bastards..."

Shawn took Lassiter's outstretched hand and stood, slowly. He was sore and stiff and miserable. He just wanted it to be over.

_4am4am4am_

"What is that kid thinking? It's no wonder that he's getting beat up if he's taking those sort of stupid risks."

"Henry," Karen warned.

"Mr Spencer, that's not fair!" Juliet added.

"What? Of course it's fair. He acts like such a child and exposes himself to this sort of risk all the time. anyone would think the kid has a death wish. And it's really no surprise that some of the cops want to hit him. I want to hit him sometimes, the stunts he pulls, and I'm his father!"

He hadn't noticed Lassiter and Shawn standing in the doorway. Lassiter's hands became fists and he took a step forward. Shawn put a hand on his shoulder and shook his head. Lassiter sighed and nodded, relaxing.

"Sorry. I just needed some air. And Dad, why are you even here? Last I heard, you retired."

"Shawn..."

"No Dad, I'm supposed to take care of my messes myself, right? So, why don't you head home?"

"You know what, Shawn, I will." Henry got up and walked out.

"Henry!" Karen called after him, but he just waved a hand dismissively, and kept on walking.

Shawn stared at the ground, and then visibly shook himself.

"Hey, Jules, now Dad's out of the house, we should totally throw a party." He smirked.

"Shawn!" Juliet, who had been looking worried, relaxed and shook her head exasperatedly at him.

"Mr Spencer, are you alright?" Chief Vick asked, gently.

"Come on, Chief! You know me! I'm perfectly fine."

Lassiter snorted at that, and got an elbow to the ribs.

 

"Very well. Why don't you go home and think about this?" She pointed to the wire. "And come and see me tomorrow with your decision."

"Chief, I want to do this. I want these bastards locked up."

"Good. So do I. But either way, they probably won't do anything today after what's happened. Go home. Get some sleep. You look like you need it. Lassiter, go with him."

"I'm on babysitting duty?" he asked.

"You have a problem with that?"

"No, no problem," Lassiter said quickly.

"Maybe I have a problem with it," Shawn said suddenly, and Lassiter looked at him, confused.

"Mr Spencer?"

"I am not a child, despite the fact that you seem to think you need to consult my father before talking to me." Shawn crossed his arms. "I can take care of myself."

"Spencer... I would feel better if I kept an eye on you. And my handcuffs would miss you if I didn't," Lassiter said, getting a smile from Shawn and bemused looks from Juliet and Vick. "Chief, I'll take Spencer home, but he needs to make a statement about the latest attack in the morning."

They stopped by Shawn's place for a change of clothes and then headed to Lassiter's.

 **_4am4am4am_ **

"He went straight to the Chief. We should have just killed him while we had the chance."

"We'd have to be careful. They're on to us."

"The Lord shall provide."

"Cut the crap, Ellis!" Randolf snapped.

"Look, Colby, what are we going to do?" Truman asked.

"What do you think?" Randolf replied. "We're going to get him."

"What? But he talked to the Chief about us. They're gonna know it was us," Truman complained.

"Well, what do you think we should do?" Randolf asked.

"I think we should expose him as the fraud he is. Then we'd get commended for roughing him up."

 "Yeah. And how exactly are we supposed to do that? We're gotta do him in."

"I dunno, Colby. I'm not sure I'm up for murder."

"Truman, grow a pair. You're in this now. We all are. Don't even think about backing out."

"John, what do you think?" George asked, turning to their third.

"Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live."


	13. Henry Sees the light, well, sort of.

The lamp was broken.

It was a damned ugly thing, but it had been on the bedside table in Henry's bedroom for over a decade. It was in the shape of an elephant. Shawn had made it, at school. In shop class, as far as Henry remembered. Shawn had thought he was being so clever taking shop, that it would be a doss class. But the kid soon realised that it was harder than it looked. Henry didn't object. He thought that learning how to make things with his own two hands would be good for the kid. He'd even tried to teach him himself, but you saw what a mess he made of the doghouse.

The light was supposed to go on when you pulled the elephant's trunk.

But Henry pulled the trunk, and the light didn't go on. He changed the bulb, but it still didn't work. He carefully turned it over and got into its guts. The haphazard collection of wires that came out made him chuckle, humourlessly. It was so Shawn. The way he'd wired up the lamp made no logical sense. There were connections that didn't need to be there and circuits that dead ended. But, the lamp had still worked for over a decade. Henry waded through the spaghetti and found the loose connection. He soldered it and when he pulled the trunk, the light came on.

If only Shawn was as easy to sort out.

Contrary to popular belief, he did love his son. Really. But... he wasn't good at all that emotional stuff. He was trying, and God knows he'd been getting in touch with his feelings more lately, but he still wasn't very good at relating to the kid. How was he supposed to change the habits of a lifetime? If he was honest, he'd say he was scared. His son was hurt, and he didn't notice. He'd just been expecting some dumb prank. But then his boy had walked into the station, so pale, so hurt, so defeated.

He didn't know how to deal with that.

And he was angry with himself, for not realising sooner, and he was terrified that Shawn might be really hurt, even killed. How was he supposed to deal with that? It was easier to help Shawn out when the kid wasn't there, or when he could pretend he was just doing it for help in the garden, or fishing. But when Shawn was right there, and so needy and helpless... that scared Henry.

It was better if he stayed away.

And there was an old games console of Shawn's that needed fixing.

 **_4am4am4am_ **

"So, do I need to cuff you to the bed to keep you here?"

"I think we can skip that this time. I know my father might disagree, but I'm not stupid enough to run away from my only protection."

"Good. That means I have you captive, and in a way you can't lock-pick your way out of," Lassie said acerbically. "Now you have to talk."

"What?"

"You, depressed and drinking. Do you do that a lot?"

"Not often. Usually Gus can talk me round. But he was away." Shawn shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "Look, can we just not talk about this?"

"We're talking about this. you need to talk about this."

"Who died and made you my mother?"

"You, if you're not careful."

"I don't want to talk about this. Enough, okay?"

"No. Not okay." Lassiter ran a hand through his hair. "I...I'm worried about you."

 _Sweet justice, that was hard to say._

"Why Lassie-pants! I do declare! You care about me!"

"Shawn. Stop that." Lassiter frowned. "This is serious. I... Please." Shawn stared at him in silence for a long moment.

"What's it matter to you? I've dealt with this. I'm fine. Leave my mind to me. You just take care of my body."

 _I could have worded that better._

"You could have worded that better." Lassiter grinned a little, then he sobered. "When I was a rookie, my best friend was one of the most irritating people I ever met. He was always bouncing around. Perky, you know? I didn't mind it so much back then. But sometimes... he wouldn't calm it down, even when we would talk to victim's families. But we needed him around. he made us all relax. He cheered us up so much, when we really needed him. I found him one day, he'd eaten his gun."

"I...I'm sorry."

"His note said he was tired. Tired of pretending. Of carrying us all. He could have talked to me. But, no. He hid everything. He thought he had to carry it all himself and keep it hidden."

"I'm sorry."

"You said that already."

"I know." There was a long pause. "I told you I have a high IQ. I have a photographic memory. If I wanted to, I could be anything, do anything. Do you know what it's like to be the smartest guy in every room? My dad did me a favour when he refused to tell the school. I would have been moved up, I would have been bullied. I was bullied, but not as much as I could have been, because I was careful. I kept my abilities hidden. I would have been moved up, and the pressure... I don't think I would have coped. Instead, I was bored, I acted out. I had a tiny attention span. Still do. And I acted the clown to entertain myself. I didn't need to pay attention, I could sit exams with my eyes closed and my hands tied behind my back. The amount of times I got pulled into the Principal's office for cheating." Shawn smiled ruefully and shook his head. "I got so used to pretending and I got told I was stupid and bad so many times, I guess it stuck. You tell a kid something often enough, they believe you. It was easier to keep pretending. Do you know how that feels? That people would believe I'm an idiot rule breaker easier than they can believe I actually have a brain?"

"No. I can't imagine."

"And I can't show that I actually have a heart, or a brain, because that breaks the facade. Gus is the only one who knows who I am. Who actually sees me. And I try, but it's hard. It's so God-damned hard. I'm just not brave enough to tell people the truth, because... what if they see the real me and don't like it? What if the real me is so bad... I have to keep pretending. I'm like the scarecrow, lion and tin man all rolled into one." The two men shared a real smile, and Lassiter went and got them a bottle of beer each from the fridge. "But then... things happen. Like that girl. She shouldn't have died. That was my fault. I should have seen it. The connection, it was right there. I should have seen it. And when I did see it, I should have called you right away, instead of pulling a vision."

"It wasn't your fault. If it wasn't for you, we never would have..." Lassiter looked up suddenly. "What was that?"

"What was what?"

"Didn't you hear that?"

"Hear what?" They both listened for a moment.

"Nothing, I guess." 

They relaxed, laughing a little at their fear.

 **_4am4am4am_ **

A lot happened very quickly.

The next thing that Shawn was clear on, was the gun pointed at his face.

 **_4am4am4am_ **

Gus got out of the cab. He had left his Echo behind while he was out of town. He grabbed his bag and walked up to the door. He knocked. There was no answer. Gus frowned. He knocked again and called out.

"Shawn! Lassiter!"

There was no response. He knocked again, harder. Still no answer, but the lights were on and he could hear the TV. He wished, briefly, for Shawn's lock picking skills. Gus pulled out his cell and dialled.


	14. Forensic Countermeasures

_Flashback to "a lot of things happened very quickly..."_

 _While Shawn had unaccountably lost track of events between hearing the noise outside and the gun being pointed in his face, Lassiter, in an odd reversal of roles, had seen everything clearly. To him, it was as though everything was happening in slow motion. There was a click of the lock on the front door disengaging. The creak of the sofa, as he leapt to his feet, knowing that something was wrong. Shawn, still caught up in the emotional catharsis they'd been having (although they'd deny it later), looked at the now upright man in confusion. The front door was thrown open, and it slammed back against the wall._

 _Shawn was halfway to his feet, when the three men reached them._

 _Ellis paused to shut the door behind them. All three men had guns. Lassiter dived for his hi-fi, knowing that the closest of his many guns was hidden in the speaker. Before he could reach it, there was a hand on his shoulder, throwing him off balance, causing him to fall into the coffee table._

 _"HEY!" Shawn yelled, and there was the sound of breaking crockery. The man grabbing at him suddenly went limp, with a yell. Lassiter squirmed out from underneath and turned, standing, to find Shawn. There was a muffled groan, and Lassiter felt a wave of anger filling him as he jumped back into the fray. Shawn, holding the remains of that ugly lamp that Lassiter only kept around because it reminded him of Victoria, was on the floor, and the remaining two bad guys were kicking him repeatedly. Lassiter grabbed a shoulder and span the man it belonged to around, and punched him solidly in the face. He didn't stop there, hitting and kicking any flesh he could reach, barely feeling the returned blows in his fury._

 _Someone leaped on him from behind and he snarled as he tried to fight off this new threat, as well as the man before him. It was the third man, the one Shawn had downed with the lamp. He'd regained his senses and rejoined the attack, anger lending him strength. As Lassiter tried to fend off his two attackers, Shawn was struggling to get upright. He made it to his knees, and then stopped, clutching the arm of the sofa as a wave of dizziness hit. He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. Lassiter had thought the events were moving in slow motion before, but when the next sound rang clear through his home, it was like time stood completely still._

 _Everything froze._

 _The sound of a gun being cocked will do that._

 _Lassiter stopped fighting, and his attackers each got a solid grip on his upper arms. His eyes found Shawn, pale, bloody, and still on his knees. Colby Randolf, Officer of the SBPD had his gun pointed directly into Shawn's face. Lassiter watched as Shawn, ever so slowly, opened his eyes and registered the weapon being aimed at him. He saw realisation dawn on his friend's (yes, for after the events of the last couple of days, he felt the psychic, fake or not, really was his friend) face, and watched Shawn's Adam's apple bob in a dry swallow._

 _"Lassiter?" Shawn managed, and time suddenly regained its normal pace._

 _End Flashback._

 

_4am4am4am_

"Erm, Lassie?" Shawn squeaked out, staring at the gun barrel.

"It's going to be okay, Shawn," Lassiter said. "Let me go!"

Shawn frowned and was about to say he wasn't holding Lassiter, but then he actually managed to take his eyes off the gun. Carlton was being held around the upper arms by John Ellis and George Truman. Which made the gunman... yep. Shawn shifted his eyes until he saw Officer Colby Randolf at the other end of the service revolver.

"You're never going to get away with this!" Shawn found himself saying, and then cringed at the cliché.

"Course we are. We've all been highly trained in forensics. There's going to be no evidence." Colby smirked.

"You guys are cops!" Lassiter growled, pulling against the grip on his arms. "How can you do this?"

"Yeah!" Shawn added. "You're supposed to be the good guys!"

 _Wow, me and Lassie are totally having a Serpico moment._ A portion of Shawn's brain smirked, but he told it to be quiet so he could focus on the bad guys.

"You're scum. Our job is to get rid of people like you, you dirty fraud," Colby said. Then, without warning, he pulled back his arm and pistol whipped Shawn viciously. He fell to the ground, blood blooming on the side of his face.

"Hey!" Lassiter shouted, again pulling to try and get to Shawn's side.

"What did you do that for?" Truman asked, hesitantly.

"Truman! It's too late for your cold feet. Stop being such a big girl. What's wrong with you anyway? You weren't so squeamish earlier when you wanted to fuck him!" Colby replied, turning to Truman and gesturing with his gun. Lassiter let out a low, animalistic snarl, deep in his throat. He lunged forward, and this time, Truman almost lost his grip. Ellis was stronger though, and held onto him long enough for Colby to punch him into submission.

"We need to get them out of here. There are too many potential witnesses." Colby frowned. "My uncle owns a farm not that far out of town. He doesn't work it, so it should be empty."

Between them, they managed to drag a struggling Lassiter and a semi-conscious Shawn out to a waiting van. They locked the door behind them, to add to the confusion and add to the time it would take for people to realise something was wrong.

 **_4am4am4am_ **

When Gus got to Lassiter's and there was no answer, he immediately knew something was wrong. He tried Shawn's cell, but no one picked up. He rang Juliet, and just a few minutes, there was a large group of cops around him.

"Gus, what's going on?" Juliet came running, and following behind her, at a more stately pace, was the Chief.

"I got here, and they weren't here!" Gus said. "The lights are on, the TV, but they're just gone!" Buzz was currently picking the lock of the Head Detective's home. He just hoped Lassiter didn't find out it had been him.

"I got it!" he called as the door swung open. They looked in at the wreck of Lassiter's living room, and a wave of dread swept over the group. There were definite signs of a struggle. Porcelain shards, from what looked to have been a lamp, were strewn across the floor. There were several blood smears and drops, although thankfully no pools.

"It must have been a surprise attack. Carlton keeps enough weapons for an armada, but it looks like he didn't get the chance to arm himself," Juliet said.

"Get CSU in here," Vick said, her voice harder and colder than Gus could remember ever hearing.

_4am4am4am_

On an abandoned farm, in an abandoned barn, Shawn Spencer (Psychic extraordinaire) awoke. He didn't regain consciousness slowly, but rather came to all at once. Lassiter gave a sigh of something that seemed very similar to relief.

"Spencer, you okay?"

"What? Where are we?" Shawn asked. He was lying on something cold and hard and filthy, and when he tried to push himself up, he realised his hands and feet were bound.

"What's the last thing you remember?"

"The gun in my face." Shawn wriggled, feeling the rope dig into his skin, and turned a little so he could look directly at Lassiter, who was likewise bound, and lying on the floor nearby.

"Okay, they dragged us into a van and brought us out here. It's a farm owned by Randolf's family." Shawn seemed to consider this for a long moment.

"We're screwed aren't we?"

"I would say yeah."

 **_4am4am4am_ **

Meanwhile, in the farmhouse, a meeting of monstrous minds was taking place.

"We should just shoot them now; send them to Hell where they belong." Ellis ground out.

"Where's the fun in-?" Colby cut himself off, and tried a different tack. "We have to give them the chance to repent, John. It's the way of the Lord. Isn't there something in the Bible about suffering being a path to God? We get them to suffer a bit, and maybe they repent. That way, we save their souls."

"It is the way of the Lord," Ellis replied after a moment's consideration. "Even though these filthy sinners don't deserve the shot at redemption."

"You can still fuck him if you want." Colby said crudely, turning to Truman. "Although, I don't know what you see in him."

"I'm not gay. I don't want to fuck him!" George replied, his hands fists.

"You sure wanted to at the station." Randolf grinned. "I just wanted to show him the error of his faggot ways."

"You still can. And I bet showing him like that will make him repent of ever taking it up the ass."

 

"We have to get out of here." Shawn said quietly. He was struggling desperately against his bonds.

"I know, Spencer. But we can't exactly get up and leave, can we?"

Shawn was about to answer with a witty quip, when the door to the barn they were in opened and their three tormentors entered.

"Ah, good. You're awake." Colby said with a big, shit-eating grin.

"Yeah, I'd like to lodge a complaint about the accommodations? I ordered the room without the bondage," Shawn said, trying to get as upright as possible, and managing only a half-slumped sitting position.

"Aw, you love it." Colby said, with a playful yet sinister smirk.

"Yeah, I bet you and your boyfriend over there play with his handcuffs in bed," Truman said. Lassiter gave a choked off snort, and Shawn grinned. "You're not even trying to deny it! Filthy perverted homos."

Seeing them helpless like that had restored his confidence. He could do whatever he liked to them, and no one would ever know.

 **_4am4am4am_ **

 

Gus was sitting by Juliet's desk, staring at his hands.

 _I should have been here. Why did I leave him? I should have known something was up. Just because I was upset about the girl's death, I shouldn't have ignored him. I'm supposed to be his best friend..._

"There's nothing!" Juliet moaned, throwing up her hands, and breaking Gus from his thoughts. The Chief frowned at her.

"Detective?"

"No fingerprints, no DNA, no personal effects left behind. They're testing the blood now, but there isn't much of it, and there are areas where bleach has been used, so I'm betting all that's left is Shawn's or Carlton's."

"Why are you even wasting time here?" Gus asked, folding his arms across his chest. "It's obvious who did this."

"Mr Guster, we don't have any proof of that," the Chief said, frowning. "I do have Officer McNabb trying to track down the three officers involved, but until we find some evidence implicating them... my hands are tied."

"You have Shawn's word for it," Gus said.

"And we do have Buzz's statement..." Juliet offered hesitantly. The Chief considered for a moment, it was enough to launch a tentative investigation, but into three of their own? Her people probably wouldn't be happy about it. Not to mention that she was going to be pulled in before the Commissioner for everything that had happened in her precinct already, maybe even the mayor.

"Ma'am," an officer Gus didn't know the name of said softly. He didn't flinch at the glare Vick levelled at him for the use of the title. "If they did take Shawn and Head Detective Lassiter, we have to look into it. Shawn's one of us." There was a murmur of agreement from the assembled masses.

"It's bad enough that they were harassing our psychic!" someone perked up.

"Yeah!" Someone else called out. "We have to help them. Screw the consequences!"

Vick looked around at her people. She had felt responsible for everything Shawn had gone through, and afraid, and upset. She thought she knew the people under her command. Her precinct wasn't the largest; she knew all her Detectives and Officers by sight. The way they were all rallying around the case made her heart swell, and added fuel to the rage that had been burning deep inside her since Lassiter had dragged Shawn into her office and showed her the bruises. She smiled darkly.

"Screw the consequences?" she asked, and some of the hardened detectives shivered at the tone of her voice. "Oh, we'll screw the consequences alright. Let's go get our Psychic, and our Detective."

There were grins all around, and Chief Vick issued her orders, to hell with her superiors.


	15. Cold Comfort Farm

The barn was cold and drafty, and the floor was hard and filthy. Shawn was huddled in a corner. There was blood on him.

Lassiter had been calling to him for several minutes from the opposite corner. They were both still bound, cruelly tight. The three crooked cops had delighted in making them watch each other suffer.

Lassiter had gone first. They had looped rope up over the exposed beams and tied his wrist bindings to it, so he was perched on his tiptoes (which was difficult when your ankles were bound together). Then, they began to beat him. Shawn hadn't stopped trying to stop them, alternating between insulting them and pleading with them. Carlton though, he'd been silent for the most part. He hadn't wanted to give them the satisfaction. Maybe that was why they got bored so quickly. They switched him with Shawn, and now Lassiter couldn't stay silent. They fake psychic had been through so much over the last few days, he was suffering enough. He tried to appeal to them as fellow officers of the law, but they laughed at him.

Shawn wasn't as good at staying silent as Lassiter was.

When Colby left for a moment and came back with a thin long stick, both prisoners flinched involuntarily. It was a long switch of bamboo, probably some remnant of a vegetable garden. He motioned to Truman who pulled a knife from his boot and cut Shawn's tattered shirt from his body. They'd taken it in turns to whip his exposed back with the thin switch.

He'd screamed.

The three men had gotten bored when Shawn had passed out after a particularly vicious blow. His back was covered in criss-crossing welts, and blood at this point. They had cut him down and dumped him as far away from Lassiter as the confines would allow, and then they had left, heading to the main house, where a crate of beer awaited them. They were laughing and getting shit-faced and planning what they were going to do to their captives.

 **_4am4am4am_ **

"Shawn, Shawn. Please, are you awake?"

"Lassiter... I hurt." Shawn moaned, trying to sit up so he could see Lassiter better, and giving up as it pulled on his back.

"I know. I'm sorry."

"What? Why are you sorry? You didn't hurt me."

"I should have stopped them. I should have been able to protect you." He chuckled humourlessly, and shook his head, then regretted it as a wave of nausea and dizziness swept through him. "To protect and serve. That's why I became a cop. and I can't even look after a police consultant while he's in my custody."

"Lassiter, don't be a guilt hog!" Shawn admonished, his voice rough. "If I'd told sooner, if I hadn't left it till I was literally at the end of my tether, and even then resisted telling anyone, maybe they would have been in jail already. I'm the one who dragged you into this. If anyone should be wracked with guilt, it should be me."

"Judging by the other night, you've got enough guilt already for a convention of Catholics during confession."

"Ha, ha."

"Spencer, your dad's training; did it involve getting out of ropes?"

"Are you serious?" Shawn groaned, glaring.

"Shawn, have you ever known me not to be serious?" Lassiter replied, quirking an eyebrow. He stopped at once, with a wince, as even the slightest motion of his facial muscles really stung.

"Well, there was that one time..."

"Spencer!"

"Okay, okay. Yes, Dad did cover ropes." Shawn frowned. "Lassie, can you get over here?"

"I'm not sure. Why?"

"Because our best bet is to work on each other's bindings. And I don't think I can get over there."

 **_4am4am4am_ **

Henry's phone rang. He glared at it. It was about three in the morning, and he was tempted to ignore it. But the caller ID said Gus. Which meant Shawn was in trouble.

"What?" Henry growled as he answered.

"Mr Spencer? It's Gus. It's about Shawn."

"Of course it is, Gus. What's he done now?"

"He's been kidnapped. I got there straight from the airport, and he was gone."

"Shouldn't he have been under some sort of protection, what with the attacks? How damn incompetent are those cops?"

"He was staying with Detective Lassiter," Gus said, then paused. He took a deep breath. "Lassiter was gone too. There were signs of a struggle."

"Of course there were! Why am I just hearing about this now?"

"We were all busy trying to find Shawn," Gus defended.

"How come you haven't found him yet? Those three bastards did it."

"We know. But we don't know where they've taken them. And we can't find any of them for questioning."

"I'm on my way to the station. Tell Karen we're going to have words."

 **_4am4am4am_ **

Lassiter had dragged his way over to Shawn, fighting a concussion and the ropes around his limbs. Shawn began working on the bindings, carefully manipulating them, and pulling at the thick braided hemp. It was taking too long. They could hear the crooked cops getting more and more rowdy the more they drank. It was only a matter of time before they came back out and began abusing them again.

The three cops had finally drunk themselves into a stupor. It was early morning, and they'd been up all night beating the crap out of their victims. That could have been the end of it. They were all drunk enough that they could have slept through the daylight hours, giving Shawn and Carlton time enough to escape.

If it wasn't for the pressure in George Truman's bladder.

He had had more too drink than the others and awoke, walking outside to relieve himself (the water and electric in the farm house having long ago been turned off). Once he was done, he started stumbling back towards the house, but then, he glanced at the barn. Maybe it was still the alcohol in his system, but he turned and walked over to where Lassiter and Shawn were housed. He fell over noisily, swearing as he stumbled back to his feet. He opened the door, laughing as it creaked ominously.

"Hey, boys! You ready to party!" He grinned. Shawn and Lassiter were each curled in their respective corners. "Shawnie, I can't wait to show you, you fag!" he said in a sing song voice as he crossed the barn. He pulled his service revolver, unbuttoning his pants with his other hand. He soon reached the incapacitated fake psychic. "Shawnie, come on, wakie wakie! I want you to be up for this."

He grinned in a grotesque parody and reached around Shawn with his empty hand. He began fondling the tied man, who made a small noise in his throat and tried to worm away. Truman pulled him over onto his back and looked into his wide, frightened eyes.

"There you are! I got to show you. You filthy faggot." Shawn shuddered. Truman's tone almost made it sound like an endearment. "You're disgusting, you and the Head Dick." He pressed the gun into Shawn's ribs, and started to ease down his captives trousers, reaching into his boxers. Shawn wriggled backwards, stifling a cry as his back burned at the movement. "Aw, poor Shawnie. All helpless, and tied up. We're gonna have some fun. Well, I'm gonna have some fun anyway." He put the gun down and used both hands to turn Shawn over, positioning him. Truman then moved a hand to his own dick and started pumping. "Gonna show you, gonna teach you, you filthy faggot. Show you the error of you ways."

There was a swish, a crack and a high, harsh scream.

Shawn opened his eyes and rolled over. Lassiter was standing over him, his eyes blazing with unrestrained fury. He brandished the bamboo switch in one hand, and had recovered the gun with the other. George Truman was unconscious.

"Are you okay?" Lassiter asked gently, and Shawn felt like crying. He took a deep breath and nodded.

"Dude, what did you do to him?" he asked, looking at the passed out man.

 **_4am4am4am_ **

_Let's try that scene again... Shawn finally managed to untie the stiff cords from around Lassiter's wrists and ankles, taking a lot of skin, and blood, with them._

 _"Finally!" Shawn grinned. He held out his hands and Lassiter reached for the ropes, but before his fingers even touched them, there was a loud noise outside, followed by swearing._

 _"Shit," Lassiter said succinctly._

 _"Go back to your corner."_

 _"What? No! I'm going to untie you."_

 _"No, you don't have time. They're coming."_

 _"Then I'll hide behind the door and jump them."_

 _"All three of them? Armed with their guns?"Shawn shook his head. "Excellent plan! If you want to get us both killed."_

 _"What do you suggest?"_

 _"Play opossum. Why is there an o in opossum?"_

 _"Spencer...!" Lassiter growled at the non-sequiter even as he rushed across to his corner, taking the ropes with him._

 _Truman entered the barn. Lassiter watched him covertly. The man was stumbling along, obviously drunk, and apparently alone._

I can take him, _the detective thought. Then Truman pulled his service piece._

Balls, _Lassiter thought._ Maybe not. _He watched the man get closer to Spencer, talking such filth, and then actually touching the psychic. Molesting him. Lassiter wanted nothing more than to run over there and knock Truman off his friend. But he couldn't. The gun was pressed against Shawn's chest. If Lassiter tried to interfere, Shawn would almost definitely be dead. He forced himself to keep watching. He owed Spencer that much. He was supposed to be protecting him!_

 _Then, wonder of wonders, Truman, in his drunken state, put down his gun! Moron. Lassiter grinned. This was the chance he was waiting for. He jumped up and rushed across the room, picking up the switch from where it lay abandoned from the earlier festivities, and raced towards the bastard holding his fake psychic down. He didn't even think, he just swung the switch hard, bringing it down in a crushing blow to Officer Truman's exposed privates. He felt it was no less than the would-be-rapist deserved. He picked up the gun and watched as Truman slumped into a faint from the pain of the blow._

 _"Are you okay?" he asked Shawn, not bothering to hide his anger that this had happened. Shawn nodded, and put on a brave face._

 _"Dude," He asked. "What did you do to him?" End._

 **_4am4am4am_ **

"Karen!" Henry stormed through the police station like a hurricane. He slammed into The Chief's office. He didn't even consider that she wouldn't be there, even though it was half three in the morning. Sure enough, there she was behind her desk, organising her troops. Never mind the fact that she hadn't slept in 24 hours. Never mind the fact that she had a toddler at home. Never mind that she hadn't seen her husband in days. One of her people was missing and that was all that mattered.

"Henry? What are you...? Gus called you?"

"Yeah. What are you doing to find my kid?"

"Henry, you know I can't discuss an ongoing investigation." Karen sounded suitably apologetic.

"It's my son, Karen." He smacked his hand into the top of her desk. "I need to be doing something."

"I'll keep you informed, as much as I can. But you can't be here if you're going to run off half cocked and ruin my chances of a conviction."

"Conviction? Do you think I care about that? My son is out there! With God knows what being done to him!"

"I know! Do you think that I don't care about Shawn? He's a good friend of mine, and he's one of my people! But think, Henry. You were a cop. If you interfere and block my chances of a conviction, those three bastards will be out on the streets and free to attack Shawn whenever they want. We have to do this right."

"I...I do know that Karen. But that's my boy out there. I know we don't get on as well as we could, but I do love him. And if you tell him I said that, I will shoot you." Karen smiled sadly at Henry. "So, what can I do to help?"

 **_4am4am4am_ **

Lassiter used the bloody ropes Shawn had pulled from his flesh to tie Officer Truman up. He then carefully untied the psychic, massaging the blood back into his numb fingers and feet.

"Why Carlton! A foot rub? Are you trying to seduce me?" Shawn fluttered his eyelashes, but with the blood on his face and the swelling and bruises around his eyes and nose, it didn't really look right.  

"Can you walk?" Lassiter ignored the desperate, joking flirtation. It was just Shawn's way of hiding, as Lassiter well knew. The Mask was back in place.

"Yeah, I have to, don't I?" Shawn replied and struggled to his feet. He took some time to fix his pants. "Let's blow this pop stand."

Lassiter smiled.

_4am4am4am_


	16. I Love It When a Plan Comes Together.

"So, you have a plan, right?" Shawn asked. He was leaning heavily on the Detective as they made their way across their makeshift prison.

"Me? You're the genius." Lassiter replied, good-naturedly.

"I bet three days ago, if I'd told you that you were...mmph... going to call me a genius, you wouldn't have believed me."

"You're probably right." Lassiter smiled. They were bantering gently with each other, trying to take their minds off their pain.

"I should be insulted. In fact, I think...ah... I am insulted."

"Hey, you should take it as a compliment. Who knew you were... ngh... that good an actor?"

"You okay?"" Shawn asked, all joking aside at Lassiter's grunt of pain. While Shawn had been grunting and groaning almost every step, the Detective had been stoically silent in regards to his pain thus far.

"Oh, I'm just hunky-dory," Lassiter ground out.

"Dude." Shawn gasped. "Hunky-dory? What are you, like, ninety?"

"You're the one who's hobbling along like an OAP!"

"Well, I'd be happy to walk by myself. I'm only leaning on you so you'll feel better. Ah." He winced and groaned a little and took a moment to catch his breath. "To give you something to do."

"Oh, yeah. I'm sure." Lassiter replied in mock sincerity.

"MMMMMMMMPH!" Came from behind them. They turned as one. It seemed their former captor, current captive, was awake. The sight of George Truman tied up, with the tattered remains of Shawn's t-shirt stuffed in his mouth as a gag, and his pants still around his ankles was unreasonably comical, and Shawn couldn't hold in a bark of laughter.

"Oh, shut up," Lassiter said irritably, waving the bamboo switch he still held in his hand. The bound man flinched and fell obediently silent. He glared at them from where they'd left him, curled on the floor in the corner of the barn. They made their torturously slow way outside and crossed the wide yard towards the house. They knew they had to take out the bad guys, and call for help. There was no way they could evade recapture in their state, it would be like a one legged turtle trying to evade a pack of hyenas, as Shawn put it.

"Ah!" Shawn cried suddenly, lurching into Lassiter, making them both fall sideways.

"Spencer! What the hell?" Lassiter whisper-shouted.

"Sorry, Lassie," Shawn muttered. He didn't want to tell him that a Raccoon had jumped out at him from behind the trash cans, scaring the crap out of him. The two men lay silent for a moment.

"I don't think they heard," Lassiter whispered, getting up. He pulled the younger man to his feet, frowning at the fresh trails of blood on his back. "Maybe you should just sit out here."

"You're kidding me, right?" Shawn tried a smirk. "You're almost as hurt as I am. We only have one chance here, and we have to take it together."

_4am4am4am_

"Come on, people! Give me something! Anything! Our people have been in those psychopaths hands for hours!" Vick corralled her people.

"Chief," Juliet said in a clam measured tone, she walked up and took Karen by the arm and walked with her into the office.

"Take your hands off...!"

"That's the fourth time you've yelled at us to find Shawn and Carlton in the last half hour. We love them too."

"I know. I'm sorry." Vick sighed and sat down. "I have Henry on my back, and I want to find them as much as any of you."

"We will find them."

"I know. We have to. But this... it's my fault," Vick said quietly, showing rare vulnerability.

"What? How is it your fault?"

"My people are my responsibility. I went back over the files. Ellis had a questionable psych report, but I hired him anyway. I was sure it could be worked out. Maybe it could have, he was fine until his wife died. When Drimmer went bad, we looked into the rest of his unit. We found that Truman believed everything he said about Shawn and Carlton and he seemed unduly concerned with the idea that the Detective might possibly be gay. As for Colby Randolf, that man has more complaints for undue force and illegal searches etcetera than any other officer in this precinct. So, I could have prevented this. If I was just paying attention."

"Okay, so the warning signs were there, but it wasn't your fault. Shawn should have come to you as soon as they started harassing him."

Juliet was hard wired to support anyone who got upset, and the Chief was upset. It was not a surprise in that the Chief always did what she could to look after her friends, but the personal nature of the Chiefs sadness showed Juliet that whatever Karen Vick said, she was a friend to O'Hara, Lassiter and Shawn.

"Okay, O'Hara, chick-flick moment over. Get back out there and find our boys."

 **_4am4am4am_ **

Shawn and Carlton had finally made it over to the house and looked in through the one lit window. The three police officers had set up travel lamps and had lit a fire in the old grate.

"They're asleep?" Shawn asked incredulously, looking at the lumps in the sleeping bags.

"It looks like it. But we can't be sure." Lassiter frowned. "We need a plan."

"Leave me here."

"What?"

"I'll create a distraction, you go around the back and get the jump on them. Classic pincer movement."

"That's not a good idea. If they come out here with guns blazing, you could get very dead before I could stop them."

"Then what's your idea, Detective Smarty-Pants?"

"You stay here, don't do anything, don't say anything, and don't touch anything. I sneak in, and get hold of the weapons. Hopefully I'll be able to grab one of their phones."

"Bad idea, you'll be totally open to attack."

"Okay. So, what do we do?"

"Plan B, grab the fish and run?" Shawn suggested whimsically, making a reference that no one ever seemed to get.

"What?" Lassiter asked, confused.

"How about this?" Shawn offered quickly. "I hide and make a noise. You hide behind the door. Bad guy comes out to investigate the noise and you whack them over the head. I grab the second gun. We get the drop on the second guy and aim our two guns at him. He surrenders peacefully and we call for help."

"That sounds good."

"Or how about this?" A cold voice came from behind them. "You two could talk away right outside the window, giving me plenty of time to come up behind you and get the drop on you." It was Colby.

In the farmhouse, John Ellis rolled over in his sleep muttering.

"Oh, I don't know." Shawn laughed nervously. "That doesn't sound like a good plan to me."

"Oh, really? I think it's working out fine." Colby laughed; a long dark cackle.

"Seriously? An evil laugh? How long did you practice that in front of the mirror?" Shawn grinned. He was hurting and tired and he just wanted to go home, but if he could keep the mask up, everything would be alright.

Colby had his gun against Shawn's back.

Lassiter looked at his friend, and then at the man behind them. He looked down at the gun in his own hand and then at the one in his enemy's hand. He wasn't sure he could get the gun away from Colby before he could pull the trigger. Shawn caught his eye, and then held out his hand. One finger... two fingers... three! They span together, Shawn grabbing Colby's wrist and twisting viciously (Henry's self defence lessons had not been in vain). The crooked cop dropped his weapon, as Lassiter raised his. He aimed the gun he'd recovered from Truman at Officer Randolf's head. The evil officer might have dropped his gun, but he could take Shawn easily in hand to hand, since Shawn was in such a weakened condition. He deliberately struck at Shawn's injured back and the younger man flinched away with a choked cry.

"Randolf! Freeze!" Lassiter said, going into his shooter's stance, legs shoulder-width apart, two handed grip on his weapon. Colby didn't do as he was told. Instead, he lunged for the gun that Shawn had made him drop. Lassiter knew what he had to do and pulled the trigger once, twice, three times.

 **_4am4am4am_ **


	17. Here they come to save the day!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter jumps around a bit, and I'm not entirely happy with it.

In an abandoned farmhouse, a man sleeping by the fire, awoke with a start.

The sound of gunshots reverberated through his aching head. The man was drunk and it took him a moment to process what he was hearing. When he realised that there'd been at least two shots while he was awake, and maybe a third that had actually jolted him into consciousness, he drew his weapon and stumbled to his feet.

 **_4am4am4am_ **

Everyone at the Station was doing everything they could to find Shawn and Carlton. They were working triple shifts. Fittingly, it was Juliet who had the breakthrough.

"Chief! Officer Randolf's family owns some properties to the north! A couple of factories, a dairy farm that's still in use today. But one of his uncle's owns a disused farm. It's about an hour's drive, and it would be perfect for keeping prisoners."

"How sure are you about this?" The Chief had to check.

"Juliet!" It was Buzz and he was running towards them, excited. "That property you were looking into, the disused farm?"

"Yes?"

"There's a report of shots fired. A scout troop is camping in a nearby field and heard three shots!"Buzz reported joyfully. Juliet and Chief Vick exchanged a delighted glance.

"Mobilise everyone! We need to get there as quickly as possible," Vick ordered.

"Yes, Chief!" Juliet grinned. They were finally getting somewhere.

 **_4am4am4am_ **

"Not a granny knot!" he said shaking his head. The boy let go of the rope and frowned.

"Can we have s'mores?" a high pitched voice called.

 **_4am4am4am_ **

"Shawn, are you okay?"

"Yeah. What about him?" Shawn asked, sitting up slowly. Lassiter bent down and put his hand to Colby's throat.

"Not dead."

"Shame," Shawn said with absolutely no irony. "Where did you get him?"

"Shoulder, side, and knee. I was aiming to disable, not kill."

"Why?"

"What?" Lassiter looked up at him, confused, from where he was tying his shirt around Officer Randolf's injuries.

"If I had the gun in my hand, I'd have gone for a head shot. I'd have got him too."

"I don't doubt that, you always hit what you're aiming at." Lassiter was still a little annoyed that the psychic had beaten his record on the shooting range.

"So, why?"

"Because I'm a cop. I'm supposed to be one of the good guys. If I'd taken that head shot, I'd have been no better than them." Shawn smiled faintly at Lassiter's answer. "This way, he's not going to be able to come after us, but he'll probably survive."

 **_4am4am4am_ **

"What's this one?"

"Why, that's a half hitch. Why don't you try?"

In the background, voices are raised, singing.

"I saw a bird."

"I saw a bird."

"With a yellow bill."

"With a yellow bill."

"It landed on."

"It landed on."

"My window sill."

"My window sill."

"I coaxed it in."

"I coaxed it in."

"With a piece of chedder."

"With a piece of chedder."

"And then I put it."

"And then I put it."

"In the paper shredder!"

"In the paper shredder!"

_4am4am4am_

There was a grand convoy of emergency vehicles making it's way north towards an abandoned farm owned by Uncle Toby Randolf (currently in jail for aggravated assault, but that's another story).

"Can this heap of bolts go any faster?" Henry growled.

"Henry, I know you're worried, but we are going as fast as we can," Karen said through clenched teeth. It was only the seventh time that Henry had asked that particular question. She pressed a little harder on the accelerator, watching the ambulance ahead of them.

 **_4am4am4am_ **

"How about this, sir?"

"That's a great reef knot!" The older man praised. "But it needs to be really tight!"

_4am4am4am_

In a second car, Gus frowned at Buzz McNabb.

"Buzz, can't we go any faster? Shawn could be hurt."

"I know, Gus. That's why we have the ambulance following us," Buzz explained calmly.

"Oh, my God. You think he's going to be hurt, don't you? You think they've done something to him! We need to go faster. Overtake Chief Vick!"

"Gus, I am not overtaking the Chief. We're going to get there and Shawn's going to be alright. If he is hurt, we have the ambulance, just in case."

"How are you so calm? You're supposed to be Shawn's friend!"

"I'm calm because I have to be!" Buzz shouted. There was a long moment of silence while the cop took several deep breaths, gathering his wits. "Shawn is my friend. He's saved my life and he stood up with me at my wedding. If I panic and worry, and all three of those dirt-bags are waiting for us, armed and ready? Then my nerves could get all of us killed. Including Shawn and Lassiter."

_4am4am4am_

"Now, first aid. Who wants to practice on a real patient?" A chorus of 'Me's and 'Please, sir's rang throughout the field.

 **_4am4am4am_ **

Juliet hadn't waited to carry a passenger. She was alone in her car and had her foot as hard on the pedal as she could. They have to be okay. They just have to.

 **_4am4am4am_ **

"There's still one of them left," Shawn said. He was checking the gun they'd gotten from Colby. It was a glock, with a full mag, so they had plenty of bullets.

"I guess he's probably awake after all the noise we made," Lassiter said sheepishly.

"Yeah. A drunk guy might sleep through one shot, even two maybe, but three? Lassie, you're slipping."

"I wanted to be sure he was down! And you squealing when he knocked you down probably woke him up first!"

"Not fair! I have open wounds down my back which I landed on! You'd squeal too!"

"I know, I'm sorry." Lassiter ran a hand through his hair. They were speaking in whispers.

"What do you know about Officer Ellis?" Shawn asked, he had placed himself with his back to Lassiter, so they could keep an eye in all directions.

"He's a sharpshooter, his record is close to ours." Shawn let the 'ours' go because they were the top two. "He's also a master of some sort of martial arts. I remember when he got a trophy. He came in gloating about it."

"Okay. So, we have a guy who can shoot us and beat the crap out of us with his eyes closed and his hands behind his back?"

"Yep. That about sums it up."

"We are so screwed."

"Yep."

"Why did we save the scary one for the last?"

 **_4am4am4am_ **

"I think he has a concussion, sir."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Well done. Now, you need to get the bandages out."

 **_4am4am4am_ **

"How much further is it?" Henry asked, again. He sounded so much like a child that Chief Vick's lips twitched, and she had to hold back a smile.

"Not long now. O'Hara said it's an hour's drive, that's at the speed limit. We've had the sirens on all the way, so it should only take us half that."

"He's going to be okay, isn't he?" he asked, sounding so unusually vulnerable, that she reached out and took his hand, squeezing it gently.

"We'll get there in time," she promised, and pressed down a little harder on the gas.

 **_4am4am4am_ **

"Where is he?" Shawn burst out.

"Quiet." Lassiter hissed.

"I mean," Shawn continued at a much reduced volume. "We're just sitting here, like ducks. He must know where we are. And the guy is mentally unstable! Why hasn't he attacked us?"

"I don't know. And I don't like it either."

 **_4am4am4am_ **

"There's a lot of blood." The boy's voice shook a little.

"I know. It's a bit scary. But scalp wounds always bleed a lot. Just get the clean dressing on there. You're doing great."

 **_4am4am4am_ **

"Gus, we're almost there!" Buzz said as they turned off the main road onto a dirt track.

"Good. They're going to be alright. Shawn's always alright. Right?"

"Shawn and Lassiter are going to be fine. They'll be fine," Buzz replied, but he wasn't sure who he was trying to convince.

A man in a khaki uniform flagged one of the patrol cars down as the convoy passed by. Officer Allan pulled off into the field from where the shots had been heard.

 **_4am4am4am_ **

"I hear sirens," Shawn said.

"I do too. They've been getting closer for the past few minutes."

"The cavalry?"

"Sounds like them. And just like them, getting here just in time to clean up."

 **_4am4am4am_ **

"What?" Vick stared at her radio in disbelief.

"Yeah." Officer Allan reported, barely suppressing her amusement. "Trussed up like a turkey."

The cars pulled into the farmyard Vick at the front, followed by Jules, and then the ambulance. Buzz pulled off to the side so the yard wouldn't get completely crowded. At this Gus frowned and levelled his Glare-of-Death at his driver.

"Easy, Gus. We don't want to get in the way of helping them." Buzz said as the second ambulance pulled in behind the first.

"Yeah. I knew that. Sorry."

"Come on. Let's go find them." Henry got out of the car, and started running towards the farmhouse.

"Shawn!" he yelled.

"Took you long enough!" a beloved voice replied, high pitched with laughter. "Took you long enough!"

"Shawn!" Henry yelled again, and he and Chief Vick, followed by Juliet, Gus and Buzz, not to mention the paramedics, raced towards the fake psychic. He and Lassiter were both slumped against the wall of the farmhouse. Between them was the unconscious form of Office Colby Randolf.

"There's one tied up in the barn," Lassiter offered as soon as they got closer, making no move to, well, move. "We didn't hurt him as much as we wanted to."

"The third one got away," Shawn said. "At least we haven't seen him in a while."

"He should be considered armed and dangerous," Lassiter said seriously.

"It's okay. Officer Allan is currently getting Ellis into the back of her patrol car," Chief Vick said gently, as the paramedics went to work on Colby and Shawn.

"How did you find us?" Lassiter asked. He honestly hadn't expected them just to turn up.

"There's a Scout Troop camping in a nearby field," she replied. "They called in a report of shots fired. Troop Leader MacGuffin also made a citizen's arrest of Officer Ellis. He had the boys practicing their knot tying and first aid skills on him."

"Wait a minute," Shawn said, pushing away the paramedics to look Chief Vick in the eyes. "Are you telling me that that bastard, armed with a gun, fully trained in martial arts and in all the ways of a police officer was captured by a Boy Scout Troop?!"

 **_4am4am4am_ **


	18. Dr Sexy MD

"They've put them in the same room," Vick reported, a small smile playing about her lips.

"Shawn and Lassiter?" Gus asked, frowning. "Is that really a good idea?"

"You didn't see them a day or so ago. Even before they were kidnapped together, they were getting on better than I've ever seen them!" Juliet inserted.

"Okay, that's it. I'm never leaving town ever again. I go away for a few days and the whole world turns upside down." Gus folded his arms.

"Enough with the melodrama, Gus." Henry snarked. "Even when you are around Shawn manages to turn everything upside down."

"Where have they got those three bastards?" Gus asked. "Nowhere near Shawn, I hope."

"They're right at the other end of the hospital and they have Officers McNabb, Allan, Stevens and Harrods watching them." Vick explained. "There's no way those..." She paused and tried to control herself. "Those...Scumbags are getting anywhere near our boys." She used a much milder word than she originally thought of.

"Can we go see them?" Jules asked.

"The Doctor is in with them at the minute." Vick paused, unsure. Gus picked up on it at once.

"What? What's wrong? Is it Shawn? Is something wrong? Is he worse than they thought?"

"Mr Guster! Calm down. Shawn's condition is unchanged, as far as I know." She took a breath. "I think you should know how Mr Truman was found though."

"What?" Henry said, his voice carefully controlled.

"He... he had his pants around his ankles and he had been hit in the groin with something hard." She shook her head. "And he was tied up."

"And? So? Therefore?" Gus asked, and almost expected to hear Shawn to tell him to stop being such a boring thesaurus rex.

"Given how he was found, we believe that there is a possibility that he attempted to sexually assault either Shawn or Lassiter." She slipped into the 'royal we' the way she often did when she had to tell bad news or give an official opinion. Juliet sat down rather suddenly.

 **_4am4am4am_ **

"Mr Spencer, Detective Lassiter." A man in a long white coat stepped into their room. "I'm Doctor Foster."

"Did you go to Gloucester?" Shawn asked.

"Excuse me?"

"He's making a joke," Lassiter said smirking. "I know. Hard to tell, isn't it?"

"Ah, of course." He consulted the chart at the end of Shawn's bed, which was worrying as he had only treated them a few moments before in the ER.

"Seriously? You've never had that before? No one has ever called you on being called Doctor Foster?"

"Well... truth be told I may have heard that joke once or twice before," the Doctor admitted. "Well, everything seems to be in order. You have a very worried group of people in the waiting room. Shall I inform them of your condition? And are you feeling up to a visit?"

It was several minutes later that Chief Vick, Henry, Juliet, and Gus came in. Shawn was lying on his side, propped up with lots of pillows. The back of his gown gaped open to show an expanse of white gauze. Lassiter, on the other hand, was sitting up, in deference to his wrapped ribs. Juliet was first into the room. She clapped both hands across her mouth and gasped as she entered. She stood between the bed and looked back and forth between them, unsure of who to go to first. Henry and Gus pushed past her and claimed the chairs by Shawn's bed.

"Shawn!" the two male visitors chorused.

"Detective." Vick said, making her way to Lassiter's bed. Juliet followed her.

"How are you feeling? Are you in any pain? DO you need anything?" She fluffed Carlton's pillow a little.

"O'Hara, calm down. I'm fine. Worst thing wrong with me is the ribs. Well, and a tiny little concussion."

"And that little internal bleeding thing," Shawn called out.

"What were you thinking Shawn?" Henry asked.

"Excuse me?"

"You could have been killed!" Henry waved his arms expansively.

"And this is my fault?"

"No one's saying that Shawn!" Gus reassured quickly. "But, why didn't you talk to me?"

"You were busy, and mad at me, and upset," Shawn replied.

"What?"

"You were upset that the girl had died, and you were mad because you thought I wasn't. I was. I really was," Shawn said. His speech was slightly slurred.

"I know that, Shawn. I'm sorry I was so selfish," Gus replied gently.

"They have him on Morphine?" Henry asked.

"Yeah," Lassiter replied, glancing at the IV.

"Damn. The kids a lightweight and that stuff acts like truth serum to him."

"Oh, really?" Vick asked lightly, and exchanged a smiling look with Juliet. They needed some lightness after all their worry.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Shawn was muttering, eyes half closed.

"Why are you sorry, Shawn?" Juliet asked, taking a couple of steps towards his bed.

"Now, that's not fair," Lassiter stated. Vick looked at him speculatively. A few days ago, he never would have stuck up for Shawn.

"She died, she died, and it was my fault," Shawn muttered, snuggling down into the sheets.

Gus gasped, and reached down to take Shawn's fault.

"It's not your fault, Shawn. I'm sorry I ever said it was. You saved all the others."

"Wait! You told him it was his fault? That's how all this started!" Lassiter burst out, on painkillers of his own.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Karen asked.

 **_4am4am4am_ **

_Two hours before Gus left on his pharmaceutical trip._

 _"Hey, Gus, check it out! They're having a John Hughes retrospective!" Shawn grinned, sipping a pineapple smoothie while he channel flipped on the plasma._

 _"Do you even care?" Gus asked. "How can you be like this?"_

 _"Like what, Gussie-face?"_

 _"So...so perky! That girl is dead, Shawn. She's dead. And that's our fault. No. it's your fault."_

 _"Gus? What do you mean? Because from what I remember, we saved three young ladies. Yes, one died. But I remember the serial killer being the one holding the dagger. Not me."_

 _"You could have told them! You had to play and make up some stupid vision! And that girl died!"_

 _"Yeah, because if I had just told them in the first place, we'd be fired and we never be able to help anyone again!"_

 _"So, that little girl is just a casualty? A necessary death?"_

 _"As harsh as this sounds, yeah."_

 _"Are you really that cold, Shawn? I thought I knew you!"_

 _And Gus had stormed out._

 _Leaving Shawn there._

 _On his own._

 _Shawn had watched him leave, and sighed. He knew that he had to say what he'd said, to stop Gus from obsessing and blaming himself. Shawn felt ten times worse, but Gus would feel better if he had someone else to blame. He took another sip of his smoothie and pulled a face. He tossed it into the trash and went looking for the bottle of whisky he knew was around somewhere. It was only two in the afternoon, but what the hell. Gus would calm down and think about it. He'd be back, hopefully in time to stop Shawn from drinking himself into a stupor._

 _By the time Gus got on the plane, he was already feeling the first faint pangs of guilt, especially because he was leaving, but he fed them anger. He didn't want to feel guilty for yelling at Shawn, because that would mean he was culpable in that child's death as well._

 _Back in the now._

 **_4am4am4am_ **

"He showed up at my place," Lassiter admitted, oblivious to Gus's guilty flashback. "He was drunk, and blaming himself. If he hadn't been feeling so guilty..." he shook his head.

"So, what? Now it's my fault you guys were kidnapped?" Gus folded his arms, and shouted. Shawn moaned, and curled up a little more.

"SH!" chorused everybody else.

"No one is saying that," Juliet said quickly (and quietly). "Are they Carlton?"

"I suppose not. And if you hadn't upset him so much, he wouldn't have been drunk enough to let slip that he was being harassed, and we may never have caught those bastards. Checks and balances. We got hurt, but the bad guys are in jail. That makes it a win for our side." Lassiter replied. He yawned.

"We'll go and let you rest," Vick said, patting his hand.

"Yeah, if Shawn wakes up, tell him I'll be back soon," Gus added.

"Me too." Henry wouldn't meet anyone's eyes as he admitted to his desire to keep an eye on his boy.

 **_4am4am4am_ **

At the other end of the hospital, Buzz McNabb stood in front of a door. Behind him, alarms began to sound...

_  
_


	19. Fever Pitch

Buzz turned and ran into the room, worried that his charges were escaping. What he saw froze him in place.

Officer Daniel Stevens was holding a pillow over Officer Truman's face.

The Pulse Oximeter that was monitoring Truman's heart rate and blood oxygen level was going berserk. Buzz broke from his frozen state and ran forwards, grabbing Stevens shoulder and wrenching him backwards away from the criminal.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Buzz snarled. The anger was so out of character, that Stevens just stared at him in shock. They both ignored the nurses bustling around, trying to save the suffocating man. "I asked you what the hell you were doing!" Buzz shook him, and Stevens blinked.

"That bastard... He... he raped Shawn!" Buzz's grip loosened in his distress.

"What?" Buzz took half a step back. "What are you talking about?"

"He raped him! He was... he was... he did that to Shawn!"

"Who told you that?"Buzz asked, but his voice sounded distant to himself. Stevens looked at the floor and then shot a venom filled glare at Truman. The man had told him to his face, probably gloated about it. Stevens was only a young officer, and coming from Buzz, that was saying something. He'd only graduated from the academy a few months ago, and he worshipped Shawn.

"This is none of your business. Maybe he did that to... to Shawn, maybe he didn't. But you are not to speak of it. And as of this moment, you are taken off guard duty," Buzz said sternly. Stevens had the good sense to look ashamed of his actions. "You are a police officer. He is the criminal. Whatever he says, you can't let it get to you. You're supposed to be the good guy. You can't sink to their level."

"They were supposed to be good guys too. Office Randolf trained me to shoot."

 _And there it is. The kid's feeling betrayed,_ McNabb thought. _We all are, but he had the betrayal shoved into his face_.

"They're going to get what they deserve. You know what happens to cops in prison," Buzz assured. He guided Stevens out the door and radioed the Chief to fill her in on what had happened. She told him she'd send Officer Allan over immediately to cover Stevens shift. He went back into the room when he was done.

"Is he going to be alright?" Buzz asked, unsure if he wanted Truman to be okay or not.

"Yes," one nurse said shortly, glaring at Buzz.

"Good." There was no use in this ruining a good cop's career. There were extenuating circumstances, and Stevens was a good kid, a good officer.

 **_4am4am4am_ **

Shawn was making strange noises. Lassiter woke up slowly, wondering at the sounds on the edge of his consciousness.

"Spencer?" Shawn muttered and writhed a little on the bed. "Shawn?" he called louder, and Shawn awoke with a start, giving a pained mew as the motion pulled at his back. "You okay?" Lassiter asked, as Shawn slowly caught his breath.

"I don't like hospitals," he muttered. They were wary of each other. The two of them had been flung into this friendship in the deep end and neither was wearing water wings. They had no idea what they were doing, where they stood. In spite of this, or maybe because of it, Lassiter asked the question that had been bothering, while the drugs still had Shawn's mouth running without censors.

"Shawn? Why did you come to me?"

"Huh?"

"Four o'clock in the morning. You were drunk, and hurting. Why did you show up at my door? Why not Gus or Henry? Hell, even Jules!" There was a long pause. The only sound was the beep of the heart monitor. Lassiter wondered if Shawn had fallen back to sleep.

"I didn't want to run away."

"What?"

"It's what I do. When things get bad, I get away. I think this is the longest I've stayed in one place, and one job, since I was a kid. I miss the freedom." Lassiter struggled to find something to say, but before he could, Shawn was talking again. "Like pineapples and rainbows." Shawn smiled. "But I don't miss everything. Do you know the sorts of things that happen to a twenty year old travelling across the country alone?" Lassiter did. He didn't want to think about those things in the context of Shawn. "But when things go south, all I can think is GET OUT! But this time... do you know how happy I've been here? How hard I've worked for this? For the first time in a long time, I am actually happy, and I don't want to run away from that. Dad... he would yell at me, and Gus... he'd let me. He always does. I think he prefers it when I run. I figured if anyone would stop me, it would be you. Especially if I told you the truth. You've been looking for an excuse to arrest me forever. That would make me stay. And I really needed to tell someone."

He laughed, but it sounded broken. Lassiter had no idea how to respond. He just listened. Shawn kept talking in a long disjointed monologue, leaping from thought to thought in a long rambling stream of consciousness. He spoke about the year he spent hitch-hiking after his beloved bike died, and he couldn't afford repairs. The things he did to raise the money to fix it. The trouble he got into with his drivers. He told Lassiter about the time he'd woken up naked, in Mexico, missing two days. He still had no idea how he'd gotten there. He listed his many jobs and spoke of various injuries. He listed girlfriends he'd had, and lost. He spoke about the first time he'd tried to run away. His first serious escape attempt. He didn't count the attempts to join the circus, or with his Uncle Jack. Those were all running to somewhere. Not away.

The first time he ran away, seriously, was when Henry hit him.

Lassiter got righteously angry and sat straight up in his bed, gasping as he jarred his ribs.

"It wasn't his fault," Shawn assured him, hastily. He noted the rage through the haze of drugs. He went on to explain about the legendary fights Henry and Maddie had. And how, this time, Maddie had stormed out. She'd gone on a business trip. Shawn had gone to Gus's. And Henry? Henry had gone to the Scotch bottle. But Gus's Aunt had gotten sick, hospital sick, and the Gustors had had to go be with their family. Shawn was sent back. He had been angry and upset and nervous.

"I was being more obnoxious than usual."

And Henry had been furious.

They'd gotten into a shouting match, culminating in Shawn telling his father that he and his mother would be better off without Henry. It had won him a vicious back-hand to the face. He fallen and hit his head on the side table. Henry's anger had disappeared as quickly as it had arrived. He'd tried to take Shawn to the hospital, but the boy had packed a bag and left, before Henry's drunken mind could comprehend it.

He'd run.

Shawn spent the night in a doorway, shivering. And the next. The day after that, he was picked up by Henry's cop buddies. There was no investigation.

It was the first time Henry had hit Shawn. And the last.

It was the first time Shawn ran. It wasn't the last.


	20. Heart of Glass

Shawn's monologue got gradually more difficult to understand. Random and rambling. His voice suddenly grew soft and shaky.

"I lost my heart," he muttered in a pitifully sad voice.

"Shawn?" Lassiter climbed painfully out of his bed and made his slow way across the room. He reached out, but stopped short of touching his friend. The heat radiating from Shawn's skin was worrying. How had the nurses missed this? They'd been doing hourly checks on Shawn and bi-hourly checks on Lassiter. He pressed the call button.

Foster was there in an instant. It seemed to Carlton that the Doctor had been waiting at the door. Foster's expression as he rushed to Shawn's bedside told Lassiter that he'd both feared and expected this.

A –what was the plural of nurses? A gaggle? A herd?- of nurses swarmed in after him, in a whirlwind of medical jargon. They surrounded the bed and fussed with Shawn.

"What's going on?" Carlton asked. He was ignored. "I said, what's going on!" Foster motioned and one of the nurses –a pretty brunette- was culled from the herd, and escorted Lassiter forcefully back to his bed. He protested most vehemently, but the little woman steamrolled over his objections with zen-like calm.

"What's his temp?"

"One oh two."

"Damn," Foster growled. He pulled the dressings off Shawn's back and grimaced at the yellow-green puss that was oozing from all the open wounds. "How has he gotten this bad, so fast? An infection is the last thing he needs." New IVs were hung. Antibiotics and cooling saline solution.

Lassiter didn't sleep a wink that night. He watched them tend his friend, until the fever finally broke in the early hours of the morning.

 **_4am4am4am_ **

"What's going on here?" Henry's voice came from the doorway. Lassiter turned to find Henry and Gus standing there, looking shocked. Gus was carrying a pineapple with a ribbon on it. Lassiter found that oddly amusing, remembering the pineapple Jules had brought, that was still sitting uneaten on his kitchen counter.

"Shawn's back is infected," Carlton said quietly. "He spiked a fever."

"His heart?" Henry immediately asked the Doctor, his face stricken.

"It's too early to tell. But we have it under control. I doubt that there's any damage," Foster assured, leaving the gaggle of nurses gathered around the bed. He shook Henry's hand and nodded to Gus.

"Damage?" Lassiter asked, trying to get up.

"Mr Lassiter. Sit back down! If you pull your stitches, or wreck those cracked ribs..." Foster trailed off menacingly. Lassiter obediently snuggled back into his bed.

"Shawn... he was born with a damaged in his heart," Henry said softly. "We were worried he would die before his first birthday. He had an operation, a transplant, when he was about five, but he has to be careful. He's more susceptible to illness due to the meds he's on-immunosuppressant's- and his heart is weaker where they sewed it in. "

"Shawn's been off his Warfarin for a while now. That's a blood thinner. It stops clots forming. You see, where the heart was attatched to the veins and arteries, there's a weak spot. If a clot was to form at the join, it would cause turbulence in the blood, which might cause the seams to split," Doc Foster explained.

"Then why isn't he taking it?" Lassiter asked.

"Shawn... he gets himself into all sorts of trouble. He has a season pass to the ER," Henry explained.

"Yeah, it got so that the risk of him bleeding to death because of the drugs outweighed the risk of getting a clot," Gus added with a shake of his head.

"Shawn's heart is doing fine, and his temperature never went above 103," Foster assured them. "We will have to keep a close eye on him, because of the infection, and because with all the clotting enzymes in his blood dealing with his wounds, the risk of getting a clot increases."

"But he's going to be okay?" Gus asked.

"I'm confident he'll be fine. Shawn's strong, given his history, he's had to be. His fever's broken, and he's doing well." The Doc smiled.

"Thank god." Henry slumped.

Lassiter decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. He wasn't sure if he could take this. Every time he thought he got the measure of Shawn, and through him Henry, Shawn would say or do something that threw Lassiter's world view for a loop.

"Where's Shawn's mother? Does she know?" he asked. Gus and Henry exchanged glances and checked that Shawn was still asleep.

"She knows," Gus said into a tense silence. "She's not coming. She's busy."

"A conference on dealing with Post Traumatic Stress. She's the key note speaker," Henry said neutrally.

"She isn't even coming to see her own kid?" Lassiter was incredulous. Shawn didn't have a bad word to say about his mother.

"No. Don't talk to Shawn about it. Let him think I didn't bother to call her," Henry said, and Lassiter's impression of him was changed again.

 **_4am4am4am_ **

Buzz's shift was over. He had gone home and gotten changed, and eaten breakfast with Francine.

"How's Shawn?" Francine asked, putting a plate of pancakes in front of her husband. She sat down to eat her own, already dressed and ready to go to work.

"I don't know," Buzz replied, honestly, running a hand through his hair. "I didn't get chance to visit, I'll go back later. But if half of what I heard is true..."

"What?"

"One of the scumbags I was guarding... he was bragging about what he'd done to Shawn. Stevens snapped. Tried to kill him."

"Oh my goodness." She shook her head and drank a mouthful of her coffee.

"Yeah."

"Shawn will be alright. I know he will." Francine smiled. "I'll bake some cookies for you to take when you visit him and Detective Lassiter."

 **_4am4am4am_ **

Vick sat in her office staring blankly at the paperwork she was supposed to be filling in. Stevens was on a suspension. He'd told her what Truman had said. She didn't know what to think. She was already guilty enough. She was guilty that she didn't see three of her officers going bad. That she didn't help them when they needed it. She was guilty that Shawn had suffered right in front of her and she didn't notice. She didn't think she could cope if Shawn had been raped. But given how Truman was found...

Shawn was not a victim. He never let himself be one. When he was shot, he whined a little, but he made them smile and didn't let it keep him down. How would he cope with this? She didn't know how to deal with this. She kept her distance in the hospital, because she was scared. Scared it was true. That Shawn would be changed from the happy-go-lucky guy they all knew. Vick looked out into the bullpen. The mood was tangible. Everyone was off. Juliet had been sitting staring at the wall for at least an hour. No one was getting any work done. No one felt like it. Shawn had become the heart of the precinct. He would come in, and do his best to cheer everyone up.

 _I remember him coming in the day after he was shot, with a box of doughnuts with pineapple jelly in the middle_. Vick smiled. _He never fails to make us all smile, even when he's in a bad way himself._

 __And Lassiter may be a harsh taskmaster, but he was a legend amongst the younger cops.

Everyone was down, and no wonder.

 _It's ironic,_  Vick mused. _Everyone's sad because of Shawn, and it's Shawn who always cheers us up._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shawn's heart damage is based on a picture I saw of a shirtless James Roday which showed a scar down the centre of his chest.


	21. A Pineapple a Day

Throughout the morning, Henry and Gus kept up a vigil at Shawn's side. Lassiter sat in his bed and watched, and prayed. Nurses came and went, checking vitals, and reassuring the men waiting and hoping. They said Shawn was responding well, and since his fever broke, it was just a matter of time until he woke up.

It finally happened at around lunch time. Shawn started whimpering and moving around on the bed.

"Nightmare," Gus diagnosed with a sigh. He had seen them before. A hand on Shawn's shoulder, he said his friend's name. "Shawn. Shawn, buddy, time to get up."

"I don't wanna. Five more minutes." The watchers let out a relieved laugh.

"Shawn, up and at 'em kid," Henry said, shaking his son's shoulder.

"Ow." Shawn hissed and drew away from his father's hand. Henry drew back as though he was shocked.

"Sorry, kid. How ya doing?"

"Tired. Muzzy. I feel like I've gone ten days without sleep."

"You got an infection," Gus explained. "You've had a fever most of the night."

"Oh, fun." Shawn pouted. "I hate being sick." He rubbed his hand through his hair. he knew that the consequences of his actions meant that he was often in hospital, but he hated them. A remnant from his childhood stays.

"You're going to be fine though," Lassiter spoke up. "Doctor Foster said so."

"Hey, I'm a hard man to keep down!" Shawn grinned. "Just like my hair!"

 **_4am4am4am_ **

Buzz took a long sleep and didn't dream, which was a mercy and a blessing. He got up and checked the clock. It was now one o'clock in the afternoon, and visiting hours at the hospital. He dressed quickly, he needed to see Shawn, and Detective Lassiter. He got dressed, and went down to the Kitchen. Francine was at work, teaching, but on the counter was a large Tupperware container, with a note sellotaped to the top. He read it and smiled.

 _"Buzzy, I baked cookies for our boys, and there's a pineapple in the fridge. I know that Shawn will probably get hundreds of the gosh darn things, but goodness knows he deserves some pampering. There's some nice soup for lunch. Make sure you eat it before you go to the hospital._

 _Yes, you can sneak a cookie for dessert._

 _Love you, Your Baby Bear. Xoxoxo."_

 __Buzz grinned. She knew him so well. He loved her, so very much, and he knew she loved him.

 **_4am4am4am_ **

Juliet glanced at the clock for the hundredth time that morning. Finally! Lunch. Ten minutes to get to the hospital, ten minutes back, that left her 40 minutes to visit Shawn and Lassiter. She dashed through the station.

"Give 'em our best!"

"Tell them to get well soon!"

"Not too soon! This is the longest Detective Lassiter's taken off. Ever!"

"Tell Shawn he still owes me 20 dollars, and I won't take hospital bills as an excuse!"

There was good natured laughter at that. Juliet waved to acknowledge the comments and jumped in her car.

"...And so I said, 'It does to me!'" Shawn was saying to raucous laughter as she entered.

"Hey Shawn, Carlton. How are you doing?" She pulled a chair to join Henry and Gus between the two beds so she could see both patients.

"Fine." Both men chorused and then grimaced at each other.

"Fine?" Henry growled. "Shawn, your back is infected, and your fever only broke a few hours ago."

"Shawn! Oh, my God. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." He grinned. "Seriously, nothing wrong a nice juicy pineapple won't fix."

"You and pineapples!" She shook her head and laughed a little. Then she frowned and turned to Lassiter. "Carlton, did you ever give him that pineapple?"

"It's back at my place." Carlton smiled. "But Henry and Gus brought him one."

"Yes! Let's crack that puppy open!"

"Shawn!" Gus frowned. "You know that a side effects of broad spectrum antibiotics is nausea! You're on liquids only."

"What? But that's not fair!" Shawn pouted. "I don't feel sick at all." He folded his arms.

"Shawn, you do what the Doctor tells you," Henry ordered. "But it's not fair, there's a big juicy pineapple, and I don't get to eat it!"

They all laughed, and Lassiter clutched at his side.

"Ow. Don't make me laugh!"

"So, you're both... really ok?" Juliet asked, looking from one to the other. "We're all really worried about you. The whole station was talking about you both. I think every single officer would come and visit if they could get time off. And if they thought you needed that kind of hassle."

"It would be nice to see the guys from the station." Shawn said quietly.

 **_4am4am4am_ **

Meanwhile, Buzz was in his car, a box of cookies on the seat beside him. He'd belted the seat-belt around them to keep them safe. The pineapple was seated proudly on top of the box. He was half watching the road, and half talking to himself, and looking in his rear view mirror.

"Hi, Shawn. How are you?" he said, smiling shyly. "Stupid. He's in the hospital, how do you expect he is?"

He pulled up to some traffic lights.

"Shawn! Hey! Detective Lassiter!" Buzz grinned perkily into the mirror. "Uh. Too cheery."

He turned left, indicating carefully.

"So, I hope you're feeling better. I have cookies!" He slapped his forehead, before replacing his hands in the recommended ten-two position."I have cookies? How lame is that? So does the Dark Side!"

He stopped to allow an elderly woman with two young children with her, probably grand-kids, to cross the road.

"We're all thinking of you. Even Francine! I... don't know what to say." He hit his head on the steering wheel and pulled over to the side of the road. He got out his cell phone. Francine would know what to do. She always did.

"Hey Francine."

"Buzzy Boo! Did you eat the soup?"

"Yes, I ate the soup." He sighed. "Can you talk?"

"Yeah, it's nap-time for the kids." He could hear her smile over the phone. She was so good with children, and she so wanted her own. He wanted children as well, but he wasn't sure if he wanted to subject a child to a policeman's lifestyle.

"Buzz? What's up?" she asked. He shook his head, realising he'd been sitting in silence instead of talking to his wife.

"Sorry, honey. I'm on my way to the hospital."

"Do you have the cookies?"

"Of course I have the cookies." She'd made him smile again. "I just... Shawn... how am I supposed to talk to him? To Detective Lassiter? I mean, we've been taught how to talk to victims, but this is Shawn and the Head Detective. They'd hate that. But something terrible did happen to them. I can't just go in and say: 'Hey, how's it hanging?' can I?"

"Well, of course not. 'How's it hanging?' That is so nineties! Unless you take up surfing, dude, never say it again." That actually startled a small laugh from Buzz. "Treat them as themselves. Don't insult them by treating them like victims. They're your friends first."

"How is it that you always know what to say?"

"I'm magical. I thought you knew that?" She grinned. "Thank me with flowers. And give my love to our boys."

"I love you."

"Love you too." They hung up. Buzz turned off his hazards and pulled back into the flow of traffic.

 **_4am4am4am_ **

"Officer Allan is talking about a party." Juliet said, smiling.

"A party?" Shawn said, perking up like a puppy that's spotted his favourite ball.

"A party?" Lassiter repeated, in the same tone that I would say 'a funeral?'.

"Yeah. Everyone is putting a little money into a pot to get you guys a gift, and Officer Allan is arranging a party. Everyone is so glad you guys are both alright."

"I'm going to get going," Henry said, standing and stretching. "I'm ready for some lunch, and I don't really want hospital food."

"Fair enough. You coming back later?" Shawn asked, faux casual.

"I'm not sure. I'll stop by tomorrow morning though." There's a long awkward pause in which neither can meet the other's eyes. "You want anything?" Henry finally asked, grudgingly. "Maybe some magazines or something. A pineapple smoothie?" Shawn smiled, then turned to Gus.

"Maybe you could grab my laptop? Games, some DVDs?"

"Sure, Shawn. But I have to work tomorrow. I might be able to drop in on my way to work though. Or I could get it in an hour or so while I'm going to get my lunch?"

"Thanks Gussy face!" Henry gave Shawn a hug that was awkward in more ways than one. Firstly, it was awkward in that both men were emotionally constipated in regards to each other. And secondly, have you ever tried hugging someone who can only lie on their side, without touching their back? Awkward.

"See ya, kid." Henry half waved and gave Lassiter a stoic nod, which was returned, and left.

"So, party?" Shawn asked, head tilted. Juliet laughed. "Tell Officer Allan to bring on the pineapple upside down cake!"

Juliet checked her watch.

"I actually have to go too. My lunch hour is up." She hugged Shawn with difficulty, and then went over and hugged Lassiter, much to his surprise. Shawn and Gus exchanged raised eyebrows."Take care of yourself Carlton. And keep looking out for Shawn, God knows he needs it."

"Ribs, O'Hara!"

"Oh, God!" She let go of him and backed off immediately. "I'm so sorry, Carlton! Are you okay?"

"Fine," he ground out. "Go. Catch bad guys." She left quickly, but with many glances over her shoulder at the men in the beds. As soon as she was out of sight, Shawn relaxed further into the bed with a harsh sigh.

"I thought she'd never leave," he muttered.

"Shawn?" Lassiter asked, surprised by the sudden change in the other man. Shawn's expression had become pained and tight; his teeth gritted and small lines of tension appeared around his eyes. Gus looked worried, exasperated and saddened all at once.

"Shawn, you don't have to do that." He sighed.

"What? What's wrong?" Lassiter asked, looking from one to the other. He hated this. He seemed to always be out of the loop.

"He does this every time he's in hospital. He hates to be seen as weak," Gus filled in.

"Gus, don't be a Billy the Big Mouth Bass."

"A what?" Lassiter asked, in spite of himself.

"One of those singing fish," Shawn explained, looking a little disappointed. He yawned and winced, moving to try and get more comfortable in the bed. There was a knock at the room door, and Buzz poked his head round. Shawn immediately put his game face back on.

"Buzz!" Shawn grinned. "Get in here!"

Buzz smiled and pushed open the door, holding the cookies and pineapple before him as an offering.


	22. Om nom nom! COOKIES!

Buzz put the pineapple on Shawn's bedside table and the cookies he put on Lassiter's.

"Francine baked the cookies herself."

"Wow. Lassie, have you tried Francine's cookies?" Shawn asked, his voice full of awe, as he and Gus looked longingly at the Tupperware cookie box.

"No..."

"Well, you have to," Shawn said, grinning.

"Damn straight!" Gus added, edging towards the box of cookies. "Francine is a Goddess in the kitchen."

"Really?"

"Yeah, me and Gus had an elabourate plot to kidnap her away from Buzz, but, well, he's our friend, so... anyway, we have a standing invitation to dinner," Shawn explained. Gus pulled out a cookie and stuck it in his mouth, making obscene noises as the chocolate chips melted on his tongue. Lassiter grabbed one and bit into it. He froze, and looked wide eyed at Buzz.

"That's the tastiest thing I ever put in my mouth!" he said, spitting cookie crumbs. Shawn grinned, opened his mouth, the shook his head.

"Nah, too easy," he muttered. He raised his voice. "Toss one of those cookies over here!"

"No, Shawn. You know you can't eat anything." Gus folded his arms.

"That's not fair." He pouted, and pressed his call button. A nurse came running, given his history.

"Mr Spencer, what seems to be the trouble?"

"I want a cookie."

"Excuse me?"

"I want a cookie, and the Doctor left instructions that I can't."

"Do you feel nauseas at all?"

"No. Not even a little bit. I am hungry though."

"I'll see what I can do." She smiled and left.

 **_4am4am4am_ **

Shawn noticed Buzz was being awfully quiet.

"Buzz, did that boy cat finally get your tongue?" He joked.

"Huh?"

"You're being very quiet."

"Oh. And it's a girl cat. She's had kittens." Buzz smiled, but he sobered quickly.

"Something happened."

"What?" Lassiter asked, putting the cookie he was eating down on his blanket. He had a sudden feeling of dread building in the pit of his stomach.

"I was... last night... I was here at the hospital, on guard duty. Stevens... he freaked out."

"What?" Lassiter and Shawn said as one.

"Stevens?" Lassiter continued alone. "Danny Stevens? He's a good kid, on his way to becoming a good Officer. What on Earth happened?"

"It was my fault. I had him in the room, and I was on the door. I should have had him on the door, but I thought it would be easier for him to keep an eye on the three of them in the room, than on everything going on in the corridor."

"Buzz, I'm sure whatever happened is not your fault," Gus assured.

"It was that bastard Truman. He woke up. Started mouthing off. He said... he said... he said he raped you." Buzz had to physically force the words out. He couldn't look at Shawn.

"What?" Shawn asked, shocked.

"What!" Carlton asked, furious.

"He said all sorts of horrible things. I... I didn't hear any of that, Stevens filled me in. The first I knew of it was the alarms sounding. I went into the room and..." He swallowed. "Stevens had a pillow pressed over Truman's face. I honestly believe that he would have killed him if I hadn't walked in right then."

"Oh, my God," Gus said. He sat down.

"First off, it wasn't your fault." Shawn assured. "Secondly, Truman's pants are on fire."

"What?"

"He didn't rape me! Don't be ridiculous. Nothing like that happened."

"It didn't?" Buzz was desperate for Shawn to be telling the truth.

"It didn't." Lassiter corroborated. Buzz sighed in relief, but Gus caught the strange look exchanged between Shawn and Carlton. There was obviously something they were hiding.

 _Oh God, what if Shawn really was raped? Why else are they acting like this? They're definitely hiding something. Oh God. What will we do? Things would have to change. Should I ask him about it?_

"Oh, good." Buzz grinned. "I was worried."

"Naturally!" Shawn grinned.

"Stevens, he really freaked out. He loves you guys, you know? We all do." Buzz blushed and scuffed his foot on the floor. "I think the whole station is still in shock."

"Really?" Shawn managed to keep most of the surprise out of his voice. He was still questioning his self worth.

"Yeah." Buzz looked away and then forced himself to meet Shawn's gaze. "I'm sorry."

"What for?" It was Gus who asked.

"I... Shawn, I should have protected you. I should have seen what was happening. You're my friend, and I'm a cop." He looked away again. "I just keep thinking how stupid I was. Looking back, there are all these signs, and I just..." He shrugged, then looked at Shawn. He was pleading for forgiveness, with eyes that rivalled a puppy dogs.

"Aw, come on Buzz! It wasn't your fault! I should have said something. Anyway, there was no way you could know, you trusted your fellow cops, and that's a good thing." Shawn smiled.

 **_4am4am4am_ **

At that moment the door opened. A doctor in a white coat walked in.

"I'm Dr Jones," he said. "I'm taking over from Dr Foster this shift." He picked up Shawn's chart. Shawn and Gus exchanged a glance and then as one they grinned and said:

"Naw, too easy!"

"Excuse me?" the Doctor said absently.

"Nothing," Shawn replied quickly.

"The nurse told me that you were asking to eat?"

"Yeah. I don't feel ill at all." Shawn  fluttered his eyelashes. "I am really hungry, and Buzz brought cookies. Homebaked cookies, baked by that paragon of cookery Francine."

"I suppose a cookie wouldn't hurt anything. But go slow, and at the first sign of nausea, stop." He wrote something illegible on the chart and went over to Lassiter's bed. "And how are we Detective?"

"Can't complain," Lassiter replied.

"I just need to check the stitches." He lifted Lassiter's gown and looked at a small incision on Lassiter's side, underneath the wrappings on his ribs.

"What happened there?" Gus asked. "You said they'd just broken your ribs."

"Yeah, but do remember Shawn added that I'd had internal bleeding?"

"Yeah..." Gus frowned. He'd assumed that was a joke.

"One of the punches made a small rupture in my spleen. They went in and repaired it as soon as we got here."

"Oh."

"Well, these seem to be alright," the Doc said, palpitating the operation site gently.

" You'll tell me if there's any swelling, irritation?" It was an order disguised as a question.

"Yes sir!" was the only possible answer Lassiter could give. Doctor Jones left, and Shawn sat up a little, moving the pillow to support his head better.

"Gimme!" He held out a greedy hand, and Gus laughed as he handed over chocolate chip goodness.

"Om nom nom!" Shawn slobbered as he stuffed down the cookie. Lassiter smiled as well and he glanced at Buzz. The young Officer was still noticeably uncomfortable.

"McNabb. You did what you could, you stopped Stevens, you told me when you saw Shawn being hassled, and you brought cookies. Now get over here!"

"Yes sir! Getting sir!" Buzz grinned. Buzz stayed for most of the afternoon, until the two patients really started getting exhausted. Between them they'd finished off most off the cookies and a good chunk of the pineapple. Shawn and Lassiter were both drifting off, when Gus decided he needed to know something. He couldn't put it off.

"Shawn?"

"Hmm? Wh't?" Shawn muttered.

"What you said to Buzz, about the... the rape. You were hiding something." Shawn was wide awake now.

"What? What are you talking about?"

"Shawn, I know you. And I saw the look between you and Lassiter."

"I wasn't raped," Shawn said emphatically.

"He's telling the truth," Lassiter put in. "He wasn't."

"What aren't you saying?" Gus pressed.

"I'm not saying a lot of things. I'm not saying supercalifrajalisticexpialidocious. Well, now I have, but I wasn't," Shawn replied.

"Shawn, don't play me. What happened?"

"It was close. Is that what you want to know?" Shawn snapped suddenly angry. "He tried, and he would have succeeded if it wasn't for Lassie."

"God, Shawn." Gus wiped his mouth with a shaking hand.

"But it didn't happen. It didn't!" Shawn said, and none of them were certain who he was trying to reassure.


	23. Nightmare in the Hospital

It had been a restless night for Shawn and Carlton. They'd both been plagued with nightmares of what might have been. Shawn had half woken at around four am, to find Lassiter standing over him, just reassuring himself that the younger man was alive.

Shawn's nightmare was as follows.

He was tied up. He couldn't move at all. He could hear Lassiter yelling and the sound of fists on flesh. Then he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up and there was Truman, grinning obscenely. His hands began to explore Shawn's body. He tried to get away, but he couldn't move. Truman started to unbutton Shawn's clothes. But he couldn't get away. Shawn looked away, as he felt the hands roaming all over him, and his saw Lassiter, being forced to watch by Randolf and Ellis.

"No. Please. This didn't happen. I know it didn't happen like this." He pleaded. "Lassie! Help me!"

Truman's hand found it's way into his pants. Lassiter protested, and there was a gunshot. He looked up, and saw Lassiter lolled back against the two men holding him, a bloody bullet hole in his forehead. They dropped his corpse to the floor where he lay in a slowly growing pool of blood. Shawn screamed and fought harder, trying to get to Carlton. The next thing he knew, all three of them were on top of him and six hands were exploring his body.

That's when he woke up, sweat soaked and shivering.

 **_4am4am4am_ **

Lassiter's nightmare was different.

He could see Shawn being beaten, he could hear him screaming. Lassiter tried to get to him. He was running as fast as he could, but Shawn and his attackers seemed to get further and further away with every step he took. He forced himself to move faster, and looked down at his feet to make sure he wouldn't fall. When he looked back up, Shawn and his attackers were gone, swallowed into a white mist which had suddenly appeared.

"Shawn!" He cried, but there was no response. He wandered around in the mist for what felt like hours, but there was nothing. Never any response to his shouts.

The he fell over. He'd tripped over Shawn's lifeless corpse and landed in a pool of his still warm blood. He yelled and tried to back away, but Shawn's cold, dead fingers grabbed onto his wrist. He couldn't get away.

"Why? Why didn't you save me?"

He woke up with Shawn's name on his lips.

 **_4am4am4am_ **

When the orderly came in with bowls of the  _delicious_  gruel they called breakfast, he found the pair of them, sitting silently in the dark. Wide awake.

When Gus peeked in on his way to work, he found them both lying down, Shawn on his right side, Lassiter on his back. Shawn was shaking, and he had tear streaks on his face. Lassiter wasn't doing much better. Gus hovered by the door, unsure of whether to go in, or if Shawn needed this.

Dr Foster came in and checked their wounds. They were both doing could go home in a day or so! He smiled at them, and suggested a psych consult in a gentle voice, when they both ignored the good news.

They ignored his suggestion.

Why it was hitting them both so hard, so suddenly, they didn't know. Shawn thought it was because this was the first time they'd had peace and solitude to actually think about what had happened to them. First, Shawn was sick, and then they'd had visitors and the doctors were in and out. Lassiter didn't care why, only that he didn't want to be feeling this. He didn't want to be thinking about this.

When Henry arrived, he could tell something was wrong, but Shawn and Carlton put on fake grins, and acted like they were fine. He stayed for a couple of hours, to reassure himself that Shawn really was going to be fine. When he left, he felt mainly confused, unable to match the way his son was acting with the emotionally charged atmosphere of the hospital room. He knew something was wrong, but he let it slide.

 **_4am4am4am_ **

The Chief took her lunch hour and visited the men. She was obviously uncomfortable around them. They both noticed it, and wondered why.

 _It's because she knows._  Shawn thought. He wasn't sure where this thought came from, the self loathing implicit in it, wasn't his usual style.  _She knows we were weak, and got kidnapped. She knows that he tried to... that he..._ He couldn't even think it.

 _She's angry with me._  Was Lassiter's explanation.  _She knows I failed. I let Spencer get hurt. Worse than I was. I'm the cop. I'm supposed to 'protect and serve'._

But no, it was none of that. She just didn't know what to say to the two men. They were supposed to be under her protection. The three who had hurt them were supposed to be under her control. No matter how you put it, she was ultimately responsible.

And she cared. Too much.

"It's unusually warm for this time of year." She said.

"Yeah." Shawn replied.

"It is." Lassiter added.

They lapsed back into uncomfortable silence.

She told them about Stevens. He was suspended pending an investigation. They told her that Stevens was a good cop and a good friend. She nodded, but she couldn't help but feel they meant that he was a better friend than she was.

Before she left, she smiled a pained smile at them.

"I'm afraid that they've lawyered up. It looks like it's going to go to trial."

"Oh." Shawn's voice was small and shaky, and utterly unlike himself.

"WHAT!" Lassiter growled. "How can this go to trial!" He took a few deep breaths, and closed his eyes for a moment. "Tell the DA to offer them a deal. Anything."

"I already did. But, the DA is an ass. He wants this to go to trial. His triumph over three crooked cops will help his career, so he doesn't care."

"Oh." Shawn said again.

"I'm sorry." She smiled again, and left.

 **_4am4am4am_ **

Lassiter and Shawn sat there, staring at the walls for a long silent moment.

"They're going to drag everything out, aren't they? Talk about everything that happened." Shawn asked.

"Yeah, they are." Lassiter slammed his hand into the bed rail. "I hate this. There's no need. You shouldn't have to go through that."

Shawn laughed and it was a hollow sound.

"Lassie, I've been kidnapped, beaten, whipped, molested and damn near raped. I think I can cope with the trial."

"Shawn," Lassiter frowned, exasperated. " Come on!"

"What?"

"You've been involved in a trial before! You helped that lawyer win. You know that the defence will try and tear us apart! They'll smear us, they'll pull up anything from our past that they can use against us. Do you think that they won't claim you're defrauding the police? That it was our fault. That we did something... I know how this works." He shook his head. "You were staying with me. They will allege that we're together. They'll allege that we had something against the three of them. That we tried to frame them. We got away and two out of three of them were caught by us and the third was caught by a troop of boy scouts! They'll say we tried to frame them!"

"That's..."Shawn wrapped his arms around his torso.

"I know."

They sat in the cold, sterile hospital room and watched the clock tick away.


	24. Epilogue

Shawn got out of hospital in just a couple more days. Lassiter had been let out the day before, but he'd spent the whole of his first day of freedom sitting by Shawn's bed. Solidarity.

But Shawn had been given his walking papers, along with a handful of prescriptions, so Gus and Lassiter were picking him up and taking him to the station.

He hadn't slept well, in fact, around four am he gave it up as a bad job. Without Lassiter across the way, his nightmares had gotten worse. He'd had a full blown flash back when he'd woken up to find a pair of orderlies holding him down. He'd been thrashing in his sleep and they were worried he'd tear his stitches. But to Shawn's sleep addled mind, they'd become Randolf and Ellis holding him down, and the nurse who was trying to inject a sedative into the IV became Truman. He began fighting harder and actually did tear his stitches. Luckily, Foster didn't push back his release date.

The hospital Chaplain, Father Michael Murphy came by his room before breakfast.

"Hello. I've heard that you've been having a hard time of it," Michael said entering the room.

"Well, you know these nurses. Shameless gossips," Shawn replied half heartedly. He was already fully dressed and sitting on the edge of his bed.

"I'm Father Michael Murphy. If you wanted to talk...?"

"Shawn, Shawn Spencer."

"So," the Father came and sat next to Shawn. "What are you in for?"

"I got kidnapped."

"That's not one I hear often, thank the Lord."

"Yeah."

"Were you badly hurt?"

"No biggie. Some skin taken off my back." He looked down.

"No biggie," the priest repeated; a note of humour in his voice.

"Yeah." Shawn gave him a ghost of a smile. They sat in companionable silence for a long moment.

"It's not the physical," Shawn said suddenly. "I've been in and out of hospitals since I was a kid. I had a heart condition, and I've always been accident prone."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Ask my dad about the time I jumped off the roof, wearing my superman cape. I was sure the costume would help me fly." He smiled in reminiscence.

"How old were you?" Michael laughed.

"Eighteen. I was drunk and it was a dare. I'd just gotten home from a costume party." They both laughed again. "So like I say, it's not the physical. It's the other. The guys who attacked me, I worked with them. They had real concerns, concerns that for all I know are shared by all my colleagues. I can't sleep without waking up screaming. I had a flashback. And some of the things that happened..." He hung his head.

"You can tell me anything, without judgement. It's sometimes easier to talk about... sensitive things with someone outside of the situation."

"Yeah." He rubbed the back of his neck. "What's worse is that Lassiter was watching. The guy tried to... to rape me, and a man I respect more than almost anyone... he was forced to wait and watch. And he had to pull the guy off me."

"If he's worthy of your respect, he'll not care about what happened. Not in the way you're worried about." Michael smiled gently at him. "He'll be worried about you, about how you feel, but he won't see it as a mark against you."

"How am I supposed to look him in the eye? And why do I suddenly need him? He's a friend, and he was with me there the whole time. He was hurt too, and he was in the bed across the way. He got out yesterday morning, but he kept me company. As soon as he leaves I start having panic attacks and flashbacks!"

"There's no shame in leaning on your friends when you need the support."

"I know that. Up here, I know that." He waved his hand towards his forehead. "But I can't help but feel... I don't know. Inadequate."

"You did nothing wrong. You've been through a terrible ordeal. If you were coping perfectly and dreaming of puppies and bunnies, then I'd be worried."

"I guess." Shawn looked at his feet.

"Let this friend of yours help you. Lean on him as much as you need to. It sounds like you two went through Hell together. I'd suggest that he needs to help you as much as you need help." There was a knock on the door and Gus entered, followed by Lassiter.

"Think about it. And if you need to talk..." Michael smiled and left.

 **_4am4am4am_ **

Gus grabbed Shawn's bag, and Lassiter wheeled a chair over to the bed.

"I don't need that." Shawn frowned.

"Hospital rules." Gus and Lassiter said as one. They'd anticipated the argument. Shawn stood awkwardly, and moved over to the chair. Gus frowned. It usually took more than that to get Shawn to agree. Lassiter moved to push Shawn, but he was still moving stiffly and he pressed a hand to his ribs. Gus nudged him aside.

"We need to pick up your meds from the pharmacy." Gus said. "What are you on?"

"Um..." He looked at the scrip. "I'm on Primaxin, Codeine, an anti-inflammatory which I can't pronounce, and um... diazepam. Along with my usual immune-suppressants."

"What? Why are you Diazepam? That's just another name for Valium."

"Damn it! I forgot you were a pharmaceutical salesman!" Shawn cursed.

"Shawn?" Lassiter growled.

"Okay, I may have had a teeny weenie little flashback. And a panic attack. Kind of."

"God, Shawn." Gus said, his voice full of horror. Lassiter was silent.

 **_4am4am4am_ **

After they'd picked up the meds, they headed over to the station in Gus's blueberry of a car. Shawn, thankfully, didn't have to stay in the wheelchair. Juliet was waiting by the door for them, and she slipped under Lassiter's shoulder, supporting him, as Gus was supporting Shawn.

They walked into the bullpen and found that the aisle that led between the desks was lined on either side with police officers in full dress uniform. As they entered, the officers all stood at attention. Chief Vick was standing at the head of the aisle, before her office door. Juliet and Gus pushed Shawn and Lassiter forward gently. They made their way up between the officers towards the Chief. As they past them, the officer's each saluted, one by one.

"Mr Spencer, Detective Lassiter. We just wanted to let you know how  _proud_ we all are of you both. This has been a tough time for our whole department, for the whole station, especially as the perpetrators were three of our own. We just wanted to reassure you both that their actions in  _no way_ reflect the feelings of anyone else in this station. If you need anything,  _anything at all_ , just ask and we will do all we can to accommodate you. I want to commend you both for your bravery. Mr Spencer, you may not be a cop officially, but I think we all feel that you are one of us. You've certainly proved yourself, over and over again. And you certainly brighten up the place." At that there was a murmur of laughter followed by a round of applause.

"I feel like I'm at the end of Star Wars when Leia gives them the medals," Shawn muttered. "You can be Luke."

"Luke?"

"Well, you can't be a lawbreaker like Han. Anyway, everyone knows I'm totally Harrison Ford. You could be Chewie, but he didn't get a medal."

"And neither are you!" Vick told them both laughing. "Not from me, not now anyway. Although your actions proved you both worthy of one. But..." She grinned. "We did do a little collection for you..." She reached down and picked up a pair of wrapped parcels with big red bows on from behind a desk. She handed one to each of them.

Shawn ripped into his. First he pulled out a red T shirt with the Flash's yellow lightning bolt logo in the centre.

"Is it okay?" Vick asked, oddly nervous. "We were originally planning a Superman T, but..." She trailed off.

"Is it okay?" He replied. "It's only awesome! The Flash is my favourite DC hero! He's so laid back!"

"Thank God." Vick muttered. Then she smiled at Shawn and motioned to the package. "There's more."

He reached in again and pulled out a plastic detective's badge. It was quite a good fake, with Shawn's info on it. He ran his thumb over the golden shield.

"Thank you." He said, his voice a little choked.

Lassiter grinned and put his hand on his friend's shoulder. He opened his own package. The first thing he pulled out was a snow globe which startled a bark of laughter out of him, despite his phobia. The next thing he pulled out was a ticket for ten sessions at the local shooting range. The final thing was a little golden plastic gong hanging from a long red ribbon. It said 'HERO'. He turned to show Shawn and found that Shawn had pulled one of his own from the wrapping paper. They both put the ribbon around their necks. The Chief kissed their cheeks and shook their hands.

The two men turned around and the whole room erupted into cheers and applause. Buzz grabbed Shawn's arm and Juliet grabbed Lassiter's and they pulled them through the crowd. Luckily, the officer's had all been briefed on the injuries they'd sustained or else Shawn would have been given several incredibly painful pats on the back. At the back of the room was a long table covered with a long white cloth. There was buffet food along the table, including a pineapple upside down cake in the centre, pride of place. There was also a platter covered in Francine's homemade cookies. Above the table on the wall was a home-made banner stating "WELCOME BACK SHAWN AND CARLTON!"

 **_4am4am4am_ **

"We have another surprise for you." Juliet told them, as they gathered around the table. Two officers opened the double doors, and a group of young men in scout's uniform marched in, following an older man in the same. He had a black eye, and his right wrist was bandaged and in a sling. They marched into the room and stood to attention in a row before the two heroes and they all gave the three fingered Boy Scout salute. The cops gave a round of applause.

"Shawn, Carlton," Juliet said. "Meet Troop Leader MacGuffin and his boys. They're the ones that caught Officer Ellis."

"Really?" Shawn grinned.

"You guys are the real heroes." Lassiter said seriously. Buzz smiled and stepped forward. He had a handful of the 'HERO' ribbons, and he walked along the line putting one each around the boy's necks and handing one to the Troop Leader.

They thanked Troop Leader MacGuffin, and one of the officers put on some music. Shawn understood. They still had to get through the trial. They had to face an IA investigation. They had to face two of their own being hurt. Not to mention poor Officer Stevens, who was notably absent. But all that was for tomorrow. For today, it was time to celebrate. They were alive. They were free. And isn't that all that matters really?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all folks! There is a prequel "A hit to the face and a broken heart", which I'll be uploading, and a sequel that's a WiP over on FF.net called "Trials and Tribulations". I may put that on here as well, but it's kind of on hiatus at the moment, so it may be a while.


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